


We Are One (The Monkees Family Vol. 1)

by teareadknitsleep



Series: The Monkees Family [1]
Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: #MeToo, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 224,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teareadknitsleep/pseuds/teareadknitsleep
Summary: The time, summer of 1967.  The setting, the Vietnam War is raging and the women's liberation movement is just getting off the ground. A new movement in music is beginning, all coalescing at the Monterey Pop Festival.  The Monkees are trying to hit the bigtime and they find some new friends and lovers to help them face their future.The Monkees have become a more successful band.  They've got a lucrative six-month contract at a nightclub, and now they've got a steady following and even groupies.  Micky has become a groupie gatherer, but now he's got his eye on one special lady, Gabby.  She's not interested in becoming just another conquest. She's been through that before.  Will Micky be able to woo her?Mike and Peter are luckier.  Gabby's friends are just right for them and their romances make contented men of them both.Davy struggles with changing his horndog ways after he faces a huge crisis in his life.  With the help of a good woman, he might just make that transformation.Together, the group bonds into an extraordinary family.This is a work of fiction, based on the characters in the show The Monkees.  No aspersions are meant.
Relationships: Davy Jones (Monkees)/Original Female Character(s), Michael Nesmith/Original Female Character(s), Micky Dolenz/Original Female Character(s), Mike Nesmith/Original Female Character(s), Peter Tork/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Monkees Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889890
Comments: 26
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

There she was, flinging her arms akimbo on the dance floor, a free spirit feeling the music and dwelling within its beats. She seemed to be ruled by, governed by, owned by the music. It commanded her, transported her, elevated her to a different plane of existence. She rose above the dance floor and levitated ever so slightly, humming to the melody and thrumming to the vibrations.

Micky watched her from his place behind the drums, on the slightly elevated riser, as mesmerized by her movements tonight as he had been for the last few weeks. He had first noticed her on that night when business was slow because there was a big rock concert going on that night and most of the kids were mobbing the scene there or avoiding the club scene if they didn't have tickets to the show, lest they be seen and outed as having not been present at the concert. Better to stay at home and wash your hair or watch Bewitched and Bonanza than to be labeled not cool enough to get tickets to the hottest gig in town. So the dance floor wasn't as crowded and she had hypnotized Micky as he drummed his way through the gig in a bit of a trance.

She was about five foot four, had a womanly figure with nice T&A, and wore her brown hair short in a sharp, geometric Vidal Sassoon hairstyle that was becoming very fashionable. Micky, who was a movie buff, thought her sharp-cut bob made her look like iconic flapper Louise Brooks. She wasn't flashy or slutty, nor seeking attention, but she definitely stood out and seemed to have a clear sense of herself and the space she occupied. She dressed as an individual, apparently to please herself, and she made a statement that wasn't about sex appeal but rather her personality. This intrigued Micky most of all. She was different than the average groupie who rushed the stage when the last number had been played, made up and tarted up to the nines, seeking attention and obviously looking to give it away for nothing more than the bragging rights.

Tonight, Micky had decided, he was finally going to make his move. He was going to swoop in and do his usual razzle dazzle jester routine, tell her a few jokes to put her at ease, suggest they slope off to grab a drink somewhere and then hopefully he'd get lucky and end up at her place for the evening. That was his usual modus operandi. Since the Monkees, the band for which Micky Dolenz was the drummer, was comprised of four bachelors who lived together – the other three being Mike Nesmith, the lead guitarist, Peter Tork, the bassist, and Davy Jones, the percussionist – in a rundown beach house they called the Pad, they had an agreement never to bring girls home for one night stands unless it was absolutely necessary, thus preserving the privacy of any of the guys who didn't manage to get lucky on any given evening. Usually, the unlucky guys in question were Mike and Peter, Mike being an introverted loner who was not terribly at ease conversing with women owing to some bad past experiences, and Peter being all around friendly but clueless about how to close the deal with a woman. Micky and Davy never had any trouble latching on to chicks, going home to their place and then catching a cab home (ideally the next morning), and it kept the peace at the Pad.

For this evening's revel, she was wearing a pale pink tank dress covered in pink sequins, with stacks of paler pink beads cascading down the bodice and swaying with her every move, making her look even more like a wild and liberated flapper. She was dancing in a cluster with her two girlfriends, and all three of them were singing along to the lyrics, making dance moves and hand motions to the songs that were akin to private jokes and hidden codes. It was obvious that they all were regulars at Monkees gigs and were fond of their music. Micky felt a swell of pride at such devotion of these fans and felt even more self-satisfied that he would be rewarding one of them so handsomely with his charming company for the evening. He knew he'd be making one of her dreams come true, unless she had a thing for short Englishmen, which meant she was a Davy chick, which was at least a fifty-fifty proposition, but he'd just have to risk it. He and Davy vied for most of the female attention and split up the groupies in advance by previous agreement at the end of every show so that there would be no rancor between them. Micky had already claimed this chick for himself at the previous show but got distracted by a particularly alluring, big-boobed blonde and so never got around to making his way over to her. This week, though, he was a man on a mission and he wouldn't be swayed. He was going to do right by her and finally claim her.

Micky walked towards the girls. The other two were yin and yang: a very short, petite, probably just shy of five feet tall, dark haired girl with wild, long layers flying everywhere and the evidence of a night's worth of dancing clearly written all over her appearance, and the other girl was a strawberry blonde five-foot-eighter with an asymmetric haircut of wavy hair short hair longer on one side than the other, swept over to the side, also showing a glow from her night's exertion. These gals clearly came to dance and threw themselves into the experience wholeheartedly.

As he approached the girl and her friends, the first thing Micky noticed was their singular disinterest in what was actually happening up on stage, unlike most of the rest of the women in the room who weren't accompanied by dates. They weren't paying attention to the band or training their eyes on the musicians. They had their backs to him and were talking amongst themselves. They seemed to be choosing fingers for who was going to pay for the cab ride home, or maybe trying to decide who got to pick where their next destination would be – a diner, a bar, another speakeasy club with late hours? Whatever the matter at hand, they had no interest in the musicians, which was quite contrary to most of the other single women in the room, who usually rushed the stage in an effort to be noticed and hopefully be given an autograph, offer their phone number for future reference, or best of all, be chosen as the evening's companion. These girls were in their own huddled, self-sufficient universe of three. In fact, Micky felt like something of an intruder as he injected himself into their conversation in order to introduce himself.

"Hello ladies, I'm Micky Dolenz, your friendly Monkees drummer. I'm taking a poll of the room to see how all the most beautiful ladies enjoyed the show. Can I get your rating on a scale from 1-10, ten being best?" Micky intoned this jokey line in his best Gallop Poll survey-taker's impression voice.

All three women now lifted their heads from their clustered fingers with looks of consternation and a bit of annoyance at being importuned without having asked for such attention. They were there to have a good time together and to enjoy the music and dance their hearts out, not to get hit on by needy guys with egos seeking stroking. Then they replayed the audio tape in their ears back, recalled hearing "Micky Dolenz" and "Monkees drummer," realized who this guy was and then they lowered their hackles a bit. Micky had caught a whiff of their hostility and gave a sigh of relief when the tide turned back in his favor a bit. He was not at all used to being given anything other than an overwhelming welcome by his female audience, and this was an extremely unpleasant and unfamiliar sensation for him. He suddenly felt cast adrift and out to sea, unable to apply the laws of gender physics that had never once failed him – he'd approach a chick, flatter her, she'd fall for him and they'd both get an ego boost and a night's worth of pleasure.

Recalibration was necessary, Micky decided, and a dash of humility was called for, he realized. He asked them simply, "Did you enjoy the show?" Now the three girls, being asked for their opinion in a civil and non-patronizing manner were glad to give him his due praise for a terrific performance, and they proceeded to do so. They named the songs they liked the best, and made requests for future gigs of songs they had heard before which they hoped would be played again. Micky now turned to each girl in turn and asked for an introduction.

The girl appeared to be the leader of the group, and took the initiative with the introductions. "I'm Gabriella, this is Wendy," gesturing to the short, dark girl, "and this is Dawn," nodding towards the blonde girl. To his astonishment, she didn't give him anything else, unlike the groupies who wanted to tell him their life stories or flirted with him shamelessly. She was going to make him work for it, sweat it, ask for what he wanted. This flummoxed and stunned Micky, who had gotten spoiled since the Monkees had recently become more successful and begun collecting more of a following, playing some of the better clubs around the greater Los Angeles area and in Malibu, where the boys lived.

The Monkees were now in the midst of a six-month contract playing at an upscale club in West Los Angeles called Cornwall's, and making significantly more money than they ever had previously, and were no longer living hand to mouth as they had for the past three plus years since they had formed their group. Micky was proud of this fact, and it explained why he even had the opportunity to observe a girl for more than one week in a row, since previously they had worked from gig to gig, roaming between venues catch as catch can, living off their meager earnings and dodging the landlord and utility providers, hoping they wouldn't get evicted or cut off from essentials like electricity, heat and hot water. In short, the Monkees had come up in the world and Micky and the other fellas were reveling in it.

It was a new sensation, having money and a bit of security, and even the groupie phenomenon was a new one to Micky. Previously, only Davy had consistent luck with the ladies, owing to his innate and outsized charm and otherworldly good looks, with deep, soulful brown eyes, matching chestnut locks, thick, dark, mesmerizing eyebrows, and plump lips made for kissing, all of which distracted from or even enhanced his short five foot three stature. Micky was new to the game and was also reveling in the ego trip and new phenomenon of being sought after by the female patrons. Micky wasn't any different than before when he was a struggling musician – he was a tall, slim, lithe six foot one, with curly, wild brown hair, hazel eyes and a very attractive face, and he had a pleasant, fun-loving and humorous demeanor – but his status had changed now that they were playing at higher class joints, and this had turned his head and turned the girls on. It had become something of a ritual and a game to him now, seeking out a partner for the evening from his perch on the drum riser, but the sensation was still new to him, and he was aware that his status as a chick magnet was as ephemeral as the Monkees' fortunes as a band as a whole.

Micky buckled down and began to try to burrow his way in with a further conversational volley. "You girls seem to be regulars at the club and knowledgeable about our music. I really appreciate that. We all do. Would you like to meet the other fellas?" He figured that perhaps the way to Gabriella's heart (or at least into her pants) was to rope in the other girls.

The other girls looked to Gabby to see her reaction first and despite her lack of overt enthusiasm, they agreed to be introduced. Micky led them over to the bandstand and interrupted the guys, who were now breaking down the instruments and amps, and told them he had met some seriously loyal fans he wanted introduce them to. Mike, Davy and Peter turned their attention to the girls and each politely shook hands with them. Davy, who often got a starry-eyed look in his expression if he saw a "smashing looking bird" he fancied, did not adopt this look, owing to the fact that he had already spotted his quarry earlier in the evening, a stunning redhead who was waiting for him at the bar. Mike was giving a side-eye to Wendy while pretending to do nothing of the sort and look his usual stoic, cool, reserved self, while Peter gave a sunny, friendly smile to all the girls and let his gaze settle appreciatively on Dawn, where it remained.

Micky decided this unusual woman was going to require an unusual campaign of battle, so he changed his normal strategy and suggested "How about if you ladies join Mike, Peter and me for a bite to eat? We usually grab something at the diner after a performance," he lied. "We burn up a lot of energy with all that monkeying around on stage."

Peter looked pleased and amenable to this suggestion, while Michael looked mortified but not entirely opposed. The three girls rolled their eyes at Micky's cheesy pun. Wendy looked like a small child wanting to eat dessert before supper and whined "Come on, Gabby, let's live a little!" Gabby responded "Sure, we were actually debating where to go for a snack ourselves. Do y'all have a favorite place where you like to go?" Michael took the lead now, which was his rightful role in the Monkees' universe, and suggested they go to Eat at Ed's, their favorite hole-in-the-wall diner.

Michael noticed Gabby's use of the word "y'all' and asked if she was from the south, mentioning that he was from Texas. She replied "No, but my father was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, and even though he worked hard to get rid of his southern accent, that one word stuck with him and I guess he passed it on to me, or maybe I just say it as a tribute to his heritage." Micky was surprised at Mike's bold conversational exchange considering his usual stoic pose with women, and jealous of their easy rapport.

The girls followed the guys in their car to the diner and they all settled into a booth. After placing their orders, Micky asked Gabby if she wanted to come over to the jukebox and help him pick out some tunes. She agreed and they strolled over together. Micky figured this was the time to pounce now. Boy, was he glad he pulled his punches and didn't spring the trap.

When they got over to the jukebox, after comparing their music tastes a bit and picking out five tunes by the Beatles, Buddy Holly, The Mamas & The Papas, Judy Collins, and Bob Dylan, Gabby raised her head from the jukebox display, looked Micky square in the eye and preemptively said to him "I'm not a groupie, Micky, so if that's what you're looking for, I'm not the girl for you."

Micky's mouth dropped open and he swore he could almost hear his jaw hinges creak. He let out a few unintelligible syllables of denial and then pulled himself together enough to form a full sentence. "I didn't think you were a groupie, Gabriella, what makes you think that?"

Now she folded her arms across her chest, not in a protective gesture but one that said "Never bullshit a bullshitter," and cocked her head at him. She didn't say a word. She didn't want to embarrass him any further than she already had, and she wasn't out to humiliate him. She just wanted to set a boundary and let him know how things stood. Micky's eyes widened with the type of fright of discovery a little boy shows when he's gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar, then he hung his head in shame and mumbled "Sorry, you're right. I was out of line. I was being glib and insincere and you saw right through me."

Gabby unfolded her arms now, put one hand on Micky's arm and said "It's okay, Micky, I get it. You're living your dream, chasing your bliss and doing your thing. You be you, okay? I'm just letting you know who I am. I've been burned by that groupie scene once before indirectly and I know all about it and I want no part of it. I'm still a loyal fan and I'll still enjoy dancing to your music. And you can call me Gabby." She turned and walked back to the table to rejoin the ongoing conversation.

As she sat down at the table, Gabby let out a burble of laughter at the scene before her. Everyone's eyes were upon her, waiting for an explanation.

"We all look like those vintage salt n' pepper shakers Wendy likes to collect from the flea market, the ones of little ceramic men and women. Pairs of dark hair, blonde hair and brown hair," as she gestured around the table from Mike and Wendy sitting next to each other, to Peter and Dawn, and finally at herself and Micky.

Everyone but Micky smiled in amusement and enjoyed the coincidence. Micky was the picture of embarrassed misery, having gotten caught out as a lounge lizard roué on the make, outdoing even Davy in that department, no small feat considering Davy dated a new girl practically every week (and sometimes slept with two simultaneously) and not a goal to which Micky ever aspired. He might have been enjoying the fringe benefits of the rock star life, but he never wanted to insult a woman with his overtures. He had been raised by a strong-willed mom who instilled within him values that included respecting women, and he had three little sisters whom he now cringed to think of in Gabby's place.

As they all filed out of the diner and out into the parking lot, the girls complimented the guys on their souped up car, which the guys called the Monkeemobile. It was a tricked out GTO convertible, painted tomato red with white leather bucket seats, and on its side was a logo in the shape of a guitar formed with the letters that spelled "Monkees." Wendy, whose father's hobby was classic cars, ran her hands gently over the paint and cooed. "This is a sweet ride. My father's got a hot rod car painted in a color called midnight lilac. I call cars like this 'wiggly cars' because they make my insides get all wiggly and excited." Mike gave one of his rare genuine smiles; the Monkeemobile was his baby, and he was responsible for having installed most of its upgrades personally, and tended to a lot of its repairs as well.

Dawn now stretched her long limbs up in a yawn and checked her watch, noticed it was after 3:30 a.m., and said "Chicks, we oughta split now. I need to get to church early to teach Sunday school class..." All three Monkees' eyes bugged out of their heads and the other two girls tittered with laughter. "Nah, I'm just funnin' you. I just want to get to bed so we can be up in time to watch cartoons in the morning. It's our tradition. Bagels, lox and Bugs Bunny." Peter gave one of his typical childlike grins and affirmed his approval: "Groovy!"

Gabby gave each of the guys an identical smile of friendliness and thanked them for a fun time. "We'll definitely be back next week. Thanks for the joy and fun you guys bring to our weekends. We really dig your gigs and get onto a different level when we're dancing to your music."

Micky now spoke from what he hoped Gabby knew was from a sincere place and said "That's where it's at for us and why we do it, so it's great to know we're spreading good vibes." She returned his gaze with a mostly neutral face but a pleasant half smile and just nodded her head in acknowledgement of the truth of his statement, as if to say, 'I believe what you're saying. You get credit for that one.' Micky felt like he had made a small step towards digging himself out of a very deep hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let a friend know that this story exists. It's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

The following Saturday night's gig found Gabby, Wendy and Dawn back on the dance floor at Cornwall's, rocking out to the Monkees' tunes, whooping and hooting and again creating their own whirlwind of energy and fun. This time, however, they moved closer to the stage and interacted somewhat more freely with the guys, much to the Monkees' delight and appreciation. There began to build a synergy between musicians and audience that normally was not present that lifted their performance to a higher level that gave the guys a real charge. By the end of the gig, everyone was flying high.

Shedding the bounds of their normally reserved and shy natures, after the last number was finished both Michael and Peter immediately left the stage, approached Wendy and Dawn and thanked them for attending. Pete was even so bold as to secure their company for another night at Eat at Ed's, then hurried back to the stage with Michael to begin the process of breaking down the equipment. Gabby gravitated towards the back of the club to the private offices of the club personnel and disappeared briefly into one of the offices, then emerged smiling and rejoined her friends. She whispered something to them and they nodded heads, then came to some agreement.

Micky had been hanging back, observing the action uncertainly, not sure of what his opening gambit with Gabby should be, after last week's embarrassing unmasking of him as a horndog groupie gatherer. Now he approached the girls and greeted them pleasantly and thanked them for attending the show and asked how they were doing, purposely keeping his conversation low-key and reserved. They all engaged with him and they chatted for a few moments, then a light brown haired, medium height, slightly dumpy but handsome guy approached Gabby and said "All ready to go! I've never been to this diner, so I'm looking forward to checking it out!"

Just at this moment, the big-boobed blonde from a couple of weeks ago came rushing up to Micky and threw her arms around his neck and burrowed her nose into his chest.

"Mickyyyyy!!! You were sensational!!! Do you have time for me??? Let's go find someplace to be together, hmmmm???" All of her sentences seemed to end with multiple punctuation marks.

Micky blushed and felt put on the spot. "Sarah, hi, well, we're all going out to a diner, you want to come along?"

The girl wrinkled her nose at him and said "Sandra, it's Sandra, silly!!!" Oh, you're such a naughty boy to forget my name. I'm going to have to punish you for that later. Sure, I'd love to come!!!" She purred as she uttered the word "punish." Micky's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he looked like he wanted to sink through a hole in the floor and let the Earth swallow him up and disappear. He cut a look over to Gabby, who had a very small smile at the corners of her lips, but she attempted to be discreet for Micky's sake and seemed to project some sympathy rather than triumph at what she could perceive was his utter humiliation. She appreciated the fact that he had the decency to appear to be humiliated. Their eyes met for a moment and they exchanged looks that spoke volumes of silent dialogue that Micky was desperate to get across: an apology on his part, a denial that this is who he was as a person; a skepticism on Gabby's part and a provisional absolution subject to further demonstration of proof and contrition.

Changing the topic abruptly, Gabby introduced everyone to her companion: "Hey, everyone, this is Fred, he's the assistant manager here at Cornwall's, and he's going to be joining us at Ed's." She then introduced Fred to Wendy and Dawn, then Micky introduced himself and Sandra and he excused himself to let everyone get acquainted while he left to help the other guys finish packing up the instruments. When that task was done, Davy joined the group with his stunning redhead from the week before and everyone learned her name was Lana. Then they met Mike and Pete at the Monkeemobile and the introductions were completed.

The group caravanned over to Eat at Ed's and settled into two adjacent booths. Mike and Wendy and Pete and Dawn sat with Davy and Lana in one booth, and Micky and Sandra shared a booth with Fred and Gabby. After they gave the waitress their orders, Micky asked Gabby if she'd help him choose some songs for the jukebox and didn't wait for her to agree but just led her by the elbow towards the edge of the booth. She relented, knowing he was in agony and needed to get something off his chest.

They strolled over to the jukebox and silently chose some tunes. Their heads bent over the labeled discs, Micky took a deep breath and then breathed it out. Keeping his eyes trained on the music, he exhaled "I'm so sorry, Gabby, that was embarrassing for me and I'm not sure how it struck you, but it might have made you feel like shit as well. I want to apologize."

Gabby elbowed Micky and nudged him and said "Hey, Micky, don't worry about it. I wasn't embarrassed for me, but I felt bad for you. Looks like your past is catching up to you, and that kind of sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does, but Gabby, here's the thing. I know you have no reason to believe me, but honestly, I don't have as much of a past as you think. I'm not Davy, who is the band's resident Casanova and sex addict. He's been a heartthrob since the day he hit puberty, and he goes through girls like some guys do pairs of socks. I only boarded this rollercoaster ride a few months ago when the Monkees started getting really popular and all of a sudden we were getting more female attention than we knew what to do with. There's a lot more for me to say and now's not the time or place for me to say it, but I hope sometime you'll let me say it and hear me out. But in the meantime, I just wanted to say that part of it so that you weren't sitting in that booth thinking you were in the company of a total scumbag. I swear that's not me." Micky's eyes beseeched her to suspend judgment for now until he had a chance to properly plead his case.

"Okay, Micky, I can tell you're in some turmoil here, and it's not for me to judge you for anything you've done in the past or what you're doing now or plan to do in the future. I just met you and I don't know you, so I don't know why my opinion matters to you anyway, but I'll take it as a compliment that it does. In any case, I appreciate it that you care enough about my feelings that you don't want me to feel uncomfortable and I'll take that as a sign of something a friend would do, so I'll give you that much. Okay?"

"Okay, thanks, Gabby. That's more than I probably deserve and I appreciate it."

Gabby smiled impishly and said "We'd better get back to Sarah/Sandra now before she starts hitting on my date." Micky rolled his eyes and smiled weakly.

In the next booth over, conversation was humming along in a fashion that was unprecedentedly smooth for both Michael and Peter, and both were a bit spooked by the sensation. If Michael had been privy to Wendy's thoughts, he'd have known that she was as stunned as he. She was practically the female version of Michael – a very funny, personable, loyal, loving person who when approached correctly, blossomed. It was only when she was exposed to the wide world and its cold judgment and standards of conformity that she shrank up as a self-conscious wallflower, heedful of being labeled a freak and not acceptable for those with tastes that ran to the conventional tall, blonde, willowy California beach babe. She was four foot eleven, dark haired, slightly plump, with a snub nose and unconventional beauty. She was a bit of a tomboy and loved sports, cars and music, not girly things, though Gabby had done her best to teach her the ropes of how to dress, do her makeup and interact with guys, and she was slowly catching on to that game. She had a hilarious sense of humor and was a whirling dervish of silliness. She had a quirky personality and so much love and care to give to those in her inner circle, but to the rest of the world she clammed up, and very few were privileged to see the real Wendy.

Michael's spirit and personality was very similar. He grew up in relative poverty in Texas, the only child of a single mother who spent most of her time working to keep a roof over their heads, to compensate for Michael's father abandoning them when he was a toddler. Michael's southern roots made him something of an outlier here in Southern California, and they set him apart from the crowd, yet he was proud of them and he clung to them fiercely as a badge of honor. The physical manifestation of his independent quirkiness was the knitted wool hats he invariably wore, either green or blue, in all sorts of weather, and the blue jeans and cowboy boots he wore even on the beach. He didn't care that he never became of his adopted home of California. California would just have to adapt to him. Yet like Wendy, he also was a bit insecure about his looks, knowing he didn't fit in with the definition of classical California beauty (he being pale, dark, long and lanky) and he worried about how the opposite sex perceived him and wasn't even that sure about other guys except for his bandmates.

When he first arrived in California, Michael was very much a loner, but eventually he came to know the guys who formed the Monkees and they started a band and moved in to the Pad together. He hadn't had much luck with his solo music career, and he decided to take a chance for the first time in his life on putting his fate into the hands of others. To his surprise, relinquishing some measure of control panned out well for him, and the Monkees coalesced quickly into a quartet successful in terms of how they played and meshed together as friends. Michael's tendency to lead and control took the forefront again and he was unofficially voted as the band's de facto manager and house mother, and he looked after not only the business end of the group, but also the care and feeding of the band's well-being and soul. He too had a wickedly funny sense of humor, offbeat and deadpan, not always on display and all the more valued for its rarity and unpredictability.

Peter and Dawn were like two peas in a pod. Two wild child hippie hedonists seeking peace, love and understanding. Their two golden heads bent towards each other as they conversed created a glow to rival the sun even at this late hour, and Gabby reflected that it was a dazzling sight to behold as she gazed at them from her place in the next booth. For the first time ever, Peter had met a woman whom he could relate to, and he felt comfortable speaking about life and any topic under the sun with her. Dawn emitted love and acceptance, fun and frolic. She was all about curiosity and experiencing life, wondering what was around the next corner and expanding her consciousness. She wanted to know what higher planes life had to offer her, and was a student of philosophy and mindfulness, or the large and the small of it, as she explained. It all mattered. Peter agreed wholeheartedly. He was a bit of a stoner and had dabbled in pot and other mind-altering drugs since he could now afford them, but even before he had ventured into chemical mind expansion, he had always been a student of religion and world philosophy (particularly eastern), psychology, politics and anything that was mind-expanding. He had firm political beliefs, such as pacifism, humanism, feminism, racial equality, liberalism and many other isms. Dawn was pleased to share her own views on these topics, and told him that she and Gabby also shared an interest in them. She mentioned that Gabby had been a political activist when she attended college in Berkeley and that they both were looking around for opportunities to get involved with the various movements and causes here in the Los Angeles area now that Gabby was settling down there. She invited Peter to join them once they figured out where they were going to plant their flag.

Meanwhile, at the other booth, conversation was not progressing very smoothly. Fred and Gabby, it turns out, were not actually a couple, but rather they had just begun to date. Gabby was interested in Fred and Fred's main interest seemed to be Fred, too. He mostly talked about himself, his important job at the club, and how lucky Micky was to have secured a multi-month contract to play at Cornwall's. This began to piss Micky off but he held his tongue in order not to jeopardize the band's standing, knowing that this pissant manager had no clout or say about their current contract but that he could cause a problem for the band nonetheless if he badmouthed them and might prevent any future opportunities being extended to them.

Micky had asked "So, Fred, how long have you and Gabby been dating?" Fred replied, "Well, we're not exactly dating yet. Gabby's got real high standards and doesn't waste her time on losers, so I'm still auditioning for the gig." He sneered at Micky as he said the word losers. Micky ground his teeth but kept his mouth shut. Now it was Gabby's turn to shoot a silent apology towards Micky and hope he accepted it.

Gabby turned to Sandra and asked her to tell them about her. Sandra gave a high-pitched laugh that sounded like a horse whinnying. "Oh, you know, I just kind of float from gig to gig every night I have free, catching the various bands' acts and making friends wherever I go – I like to spread the love, ya know? I work as a cocktail waitress at the Pitcher and Rack, the billiards pub on La Cienega, during the week. What about you, Gabby? What's your story?"

Gabby explained that she had moved back to the Los Angeles area a few months ago, where she had grown up, after graduating from the University of California at Berkeley, double majoring in political science and English literature. She was working in a bookstore for now while she looked around for a more permanent paying job at a non-profit charitable organization, or a political or advocacy job. "I was very involved with social justice and student activism at the university, particularly the anti-war and civil rights movements," she stated it in a matter-of-fact but low-key, reportorial manner. She wasn't tooting her own horn, just identifying where her purpose and passions lay. "I'd like to find my place again down here in L.A. and hook up with either an organization or a similar movement. In the meantime, I'm enjoying selling books, which are my other passion, and trying not to spend my entire paycheck every week at my place of employment, Simpsons in Westwood near UCLA. I'm the assistant manager."

Micky now finally saw an opening, a way of connecting with Gabby, and took it. "I'm a huge science fiction fan and read a bunch of it. Does your store carry much of that type of fiction, Gabby?"

"Sure, we've got a pretty extensive fiction section overall. We've got a really groovy bookseller named Robert with long red hair down to his ass who's in charge of that section who would be glad to show you around if you'd like to come in and do a deep dive."

Micky was pleased to be receiving the invitation, feeling it was a measure of redemption, but he felt an extra level of pleasure as it was extended in the presence of that asshole Fred, and he responded "I'll definitely take you up on that. Let's exchange information and I'll come in sometime this week."

Over at the other table, Michael was talking with Wendy about classic cars and the other vintage items she had a passion for. She loved to visit flea markets and be transported back to the recent and distant past by caressing the detritus of a time when American households were stocked with more aesthetically interesting items, such as depression glass, Jadeite and Fiestaware dinnerware, fabrics with atomic designs, midcentury furniture by Ray and Charles Eames and Eero Saarinen, and all manner of kitsch. She invited Michael to hit the mother of all flea markets with her the next day, the one held at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena. He accepted with pleasure mixed with his usual trepidation and wariness. Peter and Dawn agreed to make it a double date. Davy and Lena by this time had already departed, being hungry for each other's intimate company.

As the group stood in the parking lot and began to say their goodbyes, Micky made sure to swap phone numbers with Gabby and promised to call her to find out when it would be a good time to visit the bookstore. Fred didn't look happy about this encroachment on his turf, and Micky offered him a shit-eating grin in reply. Then, to inoculate himself from retaliation or suspicion of being a poacher of another fella's girl, Micky threw his arm around Sandra's shoulder and said "Let's get you back to your car at the club, Sandra." Sandra replied, "Awww, Micky, don't you want to come over and have some fuuuuunnnnnn????" Micky cringed and replied "It's awful late and I'm beat. You need your rest, too. You ought to get home and grab some Zs, Sandra." She pouted but shrugged her shoulders and climbed into the back of the Monkeemobile, and Micky again aimed another apologetic look at Gabby. Gabby initially kept a poker face but then relented and gave him a small twitch of a smile, which Micky returned.

Michael and Wendy were standing by the Monkeemobile swapping phone numbers and Michael said "I'll call you in the mornin' to see what time you feel like leavin'. How about I call you at ten?"

"That sounds perfect, Michael. The diehards will already have scooped up all the good stuff at the crack of dawn, or as my southern friend Lisa would say 'at dawn's ass crack,' but since we're just going to browse, it doesn't matter what time we show up."

Michael then bent way down to reach Wendy's cheek and gave her a quick peck, then quickly sprinted away towards the driver's seat and got in, as if he didn't want to jinx his own good luck.

Peter and Dawn were intertwining fingers and playing intricate patterns on each other's hands, like they were playing an elaborate duet on a piano keyboard, and murmuring quietly to each other.

Dawn sighed dreamily, "I'm looking forward to spending some time out in the sunshine with you tomorrow, Pete. The flea market's got some fun junk, but there's also a very groovy vibe there, and there's usually some good live folk music being played there and you can just hang out and be if you're not into the trinkets."

Pete was in a heightened state of bliss with this groovy chick who didn't demand that he be anyone other than who he was, unlike that uptight socialite Valerie he'd had a crush on a while back, who had expected him to impress her and change his whole appearance and demeanor and pretend to a social standing he didn't have. The thing he liked most of all about Dawn was that she accepted him for who he was, and he said "I can't think of anything I'd rather do than just be with you, Dawn, you know?" Dawn gave him a hug and rested her head on his chest, and he kissed the top of her head, which made her sigh contentedly. They bade each other goodnight and went to their separate vehicles.

Gabby, Dawn and Wendy dropped Fred off at Cornwall's, where his car was still waiting. He asked Gabby to walk him to his car, which she did. He asked her "When can I see you again, Gabby?"

Gabby was pleased to be making some headway on finding a steady beau. She knew Fred had his downsides. He was a bit socially inept and not the most tactful in dealing with Micky, whom he apparently perceived to be a competitor, but she took that as a sign that he was truly interested in her and decided that it was a positive, not a negative. She also knew that he seemed to be a bit insecure about his status, being the son of the proprietor of the club and not having made his own way in the world, and that he also wasn't the best looking guy either. But again, she took these as positives since she thought that a guy who was not full of himself or too confident about his looks or lot in life would be less likely to be arrogant or lord them over her, less likely to attract a harem of other women groupies, and less likely to cheat on her. Her last relationship with a charismatic, popular, stunningly handsome student activist leader had had all of these downsides and she was looking for someone less pompous and decidedly more low-key. Fred, she felt, was a suitable contrast to her past lover and a safe choice. Micky was way too much like the last guy, she had concluded, and a definite, surefire heartbreaker, which is why she shut him down immediately. She was willing to entertain Micky's suggestion of being friends, however, if he proved worthy, but he was going to have to earn it.

"I'm free tomorrow, Fred, if you want to come to the flea market with us girls and Michael and Peter."

"Nah, you don't want to do that, running around in the heat looking at a bunch of junk. Come to this fishing expo I was planning on going to. You'll see all sorts of cool gear and it's in an air-conditioned hall."

Gabby couldn't think of a more boring way to spend an afternoon, but she felt that part of building a relationship was sharing each other's interests and compromising, so she agreed to go to the fishing expo and they made plans for Fred to pick her up the next day. Fred didn't try to kiss her goodnight, which made Gabby feel relief in a way, since she was still feeling tender and raw after her last relationship implosion. She wasn't going to give anything away physically until she had true feelings for a guy, and when she did it would only be because she knew he was right for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday morning brought a glorious, bright blue sky and cloudless sunshine with it, and Wendy and Dawn were waiting for Michael and Peter to arrive in the Monkeemobile to take them to the flea market. They were stunned that Gabby had agreed to go to a fishing expo instead of going to the flea market, knowing that Gabby was just as big a fan of the flea market as they were and it was something of a regular activity for them.

Wendy scolded her: "I can't frickin' believe you are giving up a gorgeous day like this to go look at a bunch of fishing rods and tackle boxes with a dude you hardly know instead of getting out in the fresh air and scoping out some treasures with your two best friends and two seriously hot, talented guys! Where are your priorities, my friend?"

Dawn agreed, wondering aloud whether Gabby's priorities laid somewhere between her thighs and she was just about to go into a feminist screed about emotional and spiritual fulfillment being more important than getting laid, but she decided to skip it for now and hold her fire for when she felt she had more data to draw a solid conclusion. She wanted to give Gabby a chance to plead her case and explain herself.

But Gabby didn't plead or explain. She just shrugged her shoulders and responded "You chicks ought to know why. I told you what happened with my last boyfriend. It was a fuckin' disaster and I need a different type of guy. I don't want to get used and abused. I'm not looking for tutti frutti anymore. I'm looking for plain old vanilla." 

Wendy frowned and replied "Yeah, well, maybe you ought to consider laying off the extremes and find a happy medium. What about Micky? He's adorable and he's obviously hot for you."

Gabby cringed. "Micky may as well have a stamp across his forehead that says 'tutti' and another one across his ass that says 'frutti.' He's just like Nick up at Berkeley, and as you can see, he's got a readymade harem already. Nuh uh. No way." 

Dawn disagreed. "Micky's got a lot of potential. He's just a lost lamb who got off on the wrong track and he needs a good woman to set him straight. And I think he knows it and he's looking for someone like you to offer him a haven of love and care."

Gabby snorted with disgust, "Yeah, well I'm not looking to be anyone's groupie or housewife or den mother or relationship therapist. I want to find a man who respects me, cherishes me, loves me and wants to lift me up and share life equally with me. Micky's got enough other women to fulfill each of those other roles you mentioned so that there can be equal distribution of the workload. I'd just be surplus personnel and a pain in his ass. I'm too high maintenance. For one thing, I have a brain."

Now the girls all began to laugh and slap their thighs and clutch their tummies at the memories of some of the girls they had seen Micky and the other fella, Davy, leaving the club with on their previous visits to Cornwall's. Soon, mimicry and imitations of the girl groupies' voices and mannerisms followed, and there was much hooting and hollering until the sound of the Monkeemobile's horn sounded.

Gabby said "You two snagged the really good ones of the bunch. I'm glad for you. Have a fab time and I'll look forward to hearing about it tonight. If I see any killer fishing tackle, I'll be sure to make a mental picture and we can all compare notes later." Here she rolled her eyes in admission that she knew she had a boring day ahead of her.

Fred duly arrived to pick up Gabby and drove them to the fishing expo. He had a sports car that he was very proud of, and which he liked to drive fast and stop on a dime. This scared and disturbed Gabby, who asked him to please drive more carefully and smoothly. Fred disregarded her caution and discomfort, though, making light of it and chaffing her for her timidity. "This is the only way to live, Gabby! Speed's a rush and I love the adrenalin pumping through my veins when I drive this lil' baby! Lighten up! Wait till we open her up on the freeway!" Then he hit the gas pedal and shouted "Woooooo!!!!!" and increased the accelerator even more.

When they got to the convention center where the fishing event was being held, Gabby quickly felt a level of discomfort she hadn't anticipated. Everywhere she looked, there were big burly men with tattoos, beards, hairy arms and body odor. It was a testosterone convention/sausagefest and she felt very out of place. Moreover, wherever her eyes alit, there was not a single thing to interest her until she finally spotted an aquarium with some actual fish in it. She gravitated towards this gratefully and asked Fred to leave her there while he looked around, arranging for him to come back for her in a half hour to check in and see what their next move would be. Gabby was there for more like an hour and a half before Fred returned, and when she expressed her annoyance, Fred used what was apparently going to be his standard refrain with her, and told her to "lighten up, we're here to have a good time!" He reached behind his back and pulled out a baseball cap with a fish and her name embroidered on it and presented it to her. With genuine pleasure, Gabby accepted it and put it on her head, smiled, and thanked Fred for his thoughtful gift. Then they went off in search of a place to rest their feet and grab a bite to eat.

Gabby spotted a corndog stand and squealed like a little girl. "Oooh, I just love corndogs! They remind me of when I was a little girl, standing in line at the Hot Dog On A Stick stand at the mall. Let's go over there!" Fred looked dubious at the entirely non-nutritional, barely-counts-as-food item and said "Oh, Gabby, you don't want to eat that, you want something more substantial, like a burger and fries and a coke!" Gabby paused, put her hands on her hips, and said "You know what I'm noticing about you, Fred? You have a habit of telling me what I _don't_ want when I've already told you what I _do_ want. I'm getting a corndog and after I get one we can go grab you a burger. Okay?"

Fred looked stunned and flustered. Feeling defensive, he inquired "When have I ever told you what you don't want?"

Gabby gave him a "Do you really want to go there with this discussion?" look, but he insisted and wouldn't take a step further towards the promised land of the corndog stand, so Gabby relented and gave it to him right between the eyes. 

"Okay, well today for starters. I told you I wanted to go to the flea market and you told me I didn't want to go there, I really wanted to go to this stupid, boring fishing expo with you. And I just told you I wanted to get a corndog, and you told me, no, what I really wanted was to eat what you wanted to eat. And last week, I told you I'd love to see that new movie _The Taming of the Shrew_ with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton and you said 'Nah, you don't want to see that hoity toity Shakespeare crap, you want to see _Thunder_ _Alley_ with Annette Funicello and Franky Avelon, that's much more your speed.' I mean for God's sake, Fred, I was a double major in English Lit! I didn't want to go see some teeny bopper beach flick! Don't you even want to know who I really am?" 

Fred took a step towards her in a conciliatory manner (he thought) and a patronizing manner (Gabby thought) and put an arm around her and said "Awww, honey, I just want to share things with you and get you trying new things. But I'm always looking out for your benefit and trying to make sure you're always comfortable! Lighten up!" 

Gabby was on a slow burn now, simmering away like a tea kettle about to whistle. 

"Oh yeah, like the way you were trying to make me comfortable driving like a maniac on the way over here after I told you that you were scaring me and I asked you to slow down? And if you use that expression one more time and tell me to 'lighten up,' I'm going to kick you in the gonads so hard you're going to be the one lit up because you're going to be seeing stars! So I'm going to go get me a corndog, and then if you're really concerned for my well-being you'll come with me before I become hypoglycemic, then we can get you the hamburger of your dreams and we'll eat together. Then you can take me home at a pace that doesn't exceed the legal speed limit. Sound like a fair deal?" And with that, she joined the line of corndog connoisseurs and waited her turn, while Fred schlumped into line next to her, looking a little sheepish and a lot like he knew this was probably their last date. Which it was.

* * *

At the flea market, our other two would-be couples were having a lot more fun than Gabby and Fred. They had decided to split up and rendezvous later to grab a bite to eat. Wendy and Michael were wandering up and down the aisles between booths and stalls, some covered with tents and some just consisting of tables piled high with wares. There was furniture, clothing, toys, tchotchkes and knick knacks, records, collectibles and the dregs of people's attics and garages. Also on sale were homemade foodstuffs like jam, baked goods and cool drinks. Wendy spied a stall with hats for sale and galloped over to it, pulling Michael along by the hand with him matching her one stride for every three of hers.

"Michael, just look at all these funny hats! Let's try some on. I know you're sweet on that knitted cap, so you're definitely a hat person, and Gabby always says that with my hairstyle I'm a hat person, too. She says she has a freakishly small head and can't wear hats, and you know it's kind of sad but true. She'll try on a hat and it will slide over her ears and down her forehead!" Wendy let loose with her infectious giggle, and Michael couldn't help but smile down on his pixie-ish companion. 

He grabbed a big straw hat with ribbon streamers descending from a cluster of flowers and fruit and settled it on Wendy's head, then took a step back, crossed his arms and stroked his upper lip and pronounced judgment: "Girl, all you need is a price tag and you'd look like the great Grand Ole' Opry star Minnie Pearl!"

"Oooh, I know who she is! Gabby and I grew up together and we used to watch her on TV! She'd say 'How-w-w-DEE-E-E-E! I'm jest so proud to be here!'" Michael practically swooned at Wendy's familiarity with the roots of country music, and they laughed together at her impression of Minnie. 

"Now let's find a hat for you, Michael. Ah, I see one that reminds me of someone famous! Let's check this one out for size." She reached over to grab a black stovepipe hat and lo and behold, she managed to transform Michael into Honest Abe Lincoln. In her imagination, she supplied a beard and a humble expression, and she related the fantasy to him. 

"Well, I appreciate the dignified comparison. Better that than a beanie with a propeller on the top or a dunce cap!" he deadpanned drolly.

They spent several more minutes plowing through the hats, trying on new looks. Wendy turned to Michael and said "You know what, Michael, there's this Bug Bunny cartoon I always liked where a whole bunch of hats drop out of the sky and Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd stumble into wearing them and depending on which one it is, their personality and persona changes. So Bugs gets plunked with an army drill sergeant's helmet and he turns on Elmer and finally yells at him for always chasing after him with the shot gun, and later Elmer ends up with a bridal veil with Bugs wearing a top hat and they get all lovey dovey and get married. I wish real life were like that, where we could just shed whatever image people have of us and be who we think we are or who we'd like to be, you know?"

Mike nodded with true comprehension. Many was the time when he was growing up that he wished he had more courage or fortitude to speak up at bullies who mocked him for his sensitive nature and gawky appearance. Now that he was a grown man, he had the heart of a lion when it came to negotiating deals with club owners and he could more than hold his own in a bar fight, but he was still a bit timid when it came to social situations, and oh, how he wished he had half the finesse with women that his roommates Davy and Micky had. "Yeah, you know, I'd like to be Humphrey Bogart in his fedora, with the tough guy attitude but still able to get women to fall for me. I've got one, but not the other." Then he laughed and said "Maybe I'd also need the trench coat and cigarette."

Wendy reached for a soft felt hat with wide ribbon band and brim turned down perched on the table, beckoned silently for Michael to bend down so she could place it on his head, then before he could stand up straight again, placed both of her hands on his cheeks and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"You don't need the coat or the cigarette, Michael. You don't really need the hat either, in my opinion," she said softly, her head tilted slightly, appraising his new look.

Mike now plucked off the hat sitting on Wendy's head, a fortune-teller's turban made from gold lamé, and laid it aside, then smoothed her wild hair down and caressed her face and traced his hand along her jawline. "You don't need anything at all, Wendy," he responded, and he kissed her back, this time with a bit more oomph, then pulled her close to him and hugged her, wrapping his long arms around her tiny frame.

Wendy suggested "Let's go find a place to talk about who we are without the hats and who we wish we were." Michael nodded and took her hand and guided her towards a lemonade stand and some benches. He remarked "I wonder if maybe we're just fine without the hats after all." 

* * *

Peter and Dawn had visited the macrobiotic food stand and gotten milkshakes with wheatgrass and fruit and were sipping them and listening to a folk band play on a platform set up on a small, grassy park area removed from the madding crowd of merchandise stalls. Dawn was lying down with her head in Peter's lap and Peter was attempting not to pass out from utter bliss and the unfamiliarity of proximity to a real live woman by practicing the yoga breathing exercises he had been doing for the last few years. They chatted in a desultory manner of the music they were hearing, the cloud formations in the sky, and the relative merits between wheatgrass and protein in terms of what makes the healthiest shake. Peter was glad no one was calling upon him to think in anything like a rational manner because his brains were scrambled and were entirely too closely in tune with another part of his anatomy.

"Pete, Earth to Pete? You still with me?" Dawn was calling his name, Peter realized, as if he actually were returning from a visit from another planet.

"Yeah, I'm here, what's up, Dawn?"

"I said how do you feel about folk music versus rock 'n roll? Do you like one better than the other?"

"Well, my roots are in folk music," Peter explained, recounting his days as a troubadour in the East Village in New York, where he roamed from café to bar playing strictly for tips. "I also relate very much to the blues, which helped form the foundation of rock 'n roll. I feel like that kind of music speaks to my emotions – deep, soulful and starved."

"Starved?" Dawn inquired, now sitting up to face him in order to hear his answer with the attention of all her senses.

"Yeah, starved. Of certain emotions, of touch, of sensuality, of feelings I've never experienced, of experiences I've never experienced, if you will." Peter flailed about a bit trying to articulate what he meant.

"Do you mean life experiences, like seeing different places?" Dawn probed.

"Oh, nothing like that. I've seen a lot of the world and this country. My father was in the military and we moved around a lot when I was a kid. We even lived in Germany for a while when I was a small boy. For a while I could speak German, though now I can basically only count from one to ten. Then we moved from place to place in America, and that kind of meant not really planting any roots or making any deep connections. That's kind of what I mean by being starved. The only real close loving bonds I've ever had are with the guys in the band."

Dawn now realized what he was getting at and decided to take a leap of faith that if she asked her next question, Peter wouldn't get offended. She liked him and wanted to, already _did_ , feel connected to him in some deeper way than most guys she'd met. She wanted to test her theory. 

"Do you mean you've never had a woman, Peter?"

Pete flushed with embarrassment and started to gurgle with incoherent noises and unutterable responses. He just couldn't get them past his lips, even though he actually did want to respond, sensing that Dawn wouldn't make fun of him or be cruel in her reaction. For some reason, he trusted Dawn, but he didn't know how to begin. So he decided to just keep it simple: "Yes."

Dawn's face became peaceful, compassionate and sympathetic. "Tell me how it could possibly be that a guy as sweet, funny, smart, talented and gorgeous as you hasn't had more than his share of girlfriends already. Are you saving yourself for someone special?"

Pete shook his head vigorously, his dirty blonde bangs flinging back and forth into and out of his eyes. "Nooooo, that's not it at all, though I definitely don't go for that groupie scene that Davy and Micky seem to dig so much. I'm looking for ONE woman to love, that's all. But I just don't _get_ women. They're such strange beings. They talk in mixed messages, and they speak in riddles and codes. I usually end up saying the wrong thing, if I can get past my shyness and say anything at all. Or I get all clumsy and trip over the furniture and embarrass myself and turn them off because I'm not smooth. Or they find out I don't have a lot of dough and I'm still working my way up the ladder and can't afford to shower them with the things they want. Or maybe they think I'm not attractive."

Dawn held up a hand like a traffic cop and said "Alright, Mister, STOP right there! I will NOT have you calling yourself unattractive for a start. You are a stone cold babe. Period, end of discussion. Second of all, you are not clumsy, you've got the best moves I've ever seen from a man or woman, the way you move your body along with the music and hump that bass! And another thing, you may not have a deep bank account, but you ARE a hard worker and as a result of that ethic you're on the upswing with your career, and that's a plus, or at least it should be to any woman who's worth your time. So that's you. 

"Now let's talk women. It's true that women and men communicate differently, and that we don't always send out the same vibes or make ourselves clear, but that's often because we're every bit as shy and insecure as dudes like you are. Can you cut us some slack for that? And you know, let's face it, there are all sorts of gender stereotypes that get reinforced that both of us get punished for violating that keep us from communicating as well as we ought. Women get slagged on for being too forthright and telling it like it is and asking for what they want. So let's just focus on how well you communicate with me. You've been nothing short of friendly, pleasant, polite, funny, interesting and a ball to be around. I haven't noticed any shyness on your part, so if it's there, it's inside of you and it's something you're dealing with on your own and you shouldn't have to because I'm here and I like spending time with you. So let's just toss that out the window. Okay?"

"Okay. The way you put it, it makes things seem so much easier and more relaxed. Like I can just be who I am and not worry so much." Peter took a deep breath and then exhaled.

"Rock on, Pete! Let's go with the flow! Life's too short to get hung up on the insecurities if we can dispense with them. So what's left? Are you a virgin?"

Peter turned as red as the Monkees' eight-button performance shirts. He fiddled with the straw in his drink, then tears started to pool in the corners of his eyes and he hung his head down to his chest. "Wow, for a minute there, I thought maybe we were going to make a go of things, maybe even get to date. Now it's over, isn't it?"

Dawn leaned forward and took her thumbs and wiped away Peter's tears, then put both thumbs in her mouth and sucked the tears off them and smiled. "Do I look like I'm going anywhere?"

Peter's head had bobbed back up in astonishment and his eyes flew wide open. He smiled when he saw Dawn's thumbs in her mouth. His deep dimple in his right cheek made an appearance and it was as if the sun was peeping out from behind a storm cloud. He took hold of Dawn's thumbs and kissed them one at a time, then pulled her to him and kissed her lips, first lightly and then surprisingly passionately, as if he had popped a cork from a fizzing bottle of soda and all the pressure was letting loose. She smiled into the kiss and murmured again "Rock on, Pete, rock on!"


	4. Chapter 4

Micky decided not to give Gabby a call in advance of visiting her at the bookstore after all. He was still haunted by their first few encounters and feared that she might stiff-arm him and shut him down. He figured it was better to just show up and apologize for skipping the niceties than to ask permission to be invited and be denied, although it did occur to him that he'd done an awful lot of apologizing already. He could only place his hopes on a woman's tendency to be flattered by spontaneous shows of affection and initiative on a guy's part in pursuit of her hand. And Micky wanted to let there be no mistake that that's what he was after – her hand, not her ass. He'd given it a lot of thought and realized that his priorities had gotten seriously out of whack, and this woman had given him the jolt back to reality he sorely needed. He felt like an Etch A Sketch toy that had been shaken up and had its slate wiped clean. He hoped he'd get the opportunity to make a new drawing with her, at least as friends, if not as lovers.

He strolled into Simpsons and headed for the information desk, where he saw Gabby helping a man decide between two cookbooks, presumably a gift for his wife, but to his surprise, as he got closer, he heard their conversation and realized he was wrong.

"I think it's great that you like to cook and that you don't buy into that bullshit that a woman's place is in the kitchen. Your wife's gonna be thrilled to have you sharing the kitchen duties, and I guarantee you, your relationship is going to be sweeter and so will your love life." Then she winked at him and he floated away on a cloud of anticipation of home cooked lovin'. 

Micky stepped up to the desk next and confided "I don't know how to cook. None of us guys can. Maybe that explains a few things." Gabby giggled and replied "Dolenz, you've got to dig a lot deeper than that to unpack your pathology on love and relationships." He smiled broadly and conceded "True that."

"So what can I do for you, Micky?" she inquired.

"Well, there's this book I really, really loved when I was a kid, and I was hoping you had a copy of it."

"Yeah, and..." she replied.

"Oh, I see, you need more info than that! Okay, well, I can't remember the name of it, but I _do_ remember it was about an animal and the cover was blue." Micky waited a beat for her expression to turn to irritation, then pointed his finger at her and said "Gotcha! I'll bet you get annoying customers like that all the time, right?"

She broke into a grin and agreed, "Yeah, it can get even worse. I once had this lady come in and ask me for a romance book that she couldn't remember the title of, but it involved a man and a woman and there were twenty-four orgasms in the story. She knew this because her book club had read it and counted them all. She missed out while she had been away having a baby and she couldn't wait to catch up. As if I have some sort of filing system in the romance section based on how many orgasms each story contains!" 

Gabby and Micky simultaneously burst into bawdy, lascivious laughter. Micky really liked the frank, slightly profane way Gabby talked, and her refusal to be a shrinking violet like so many chicks were or pretended to be. She wasn't exactly like one of the guys, but she was a liberated woman, and he felt like he could talk to her like she was a guy and didn't have to censor himself too tightly. 

"So I did want to have a look at your science fiction section, like I mentioned. You said there's a guy named Robert who's a sci-fi know-it-all. Is he around and can he show me what you've got?"

Gabby had a look at the schedule and confirmed that he was. Then she paged him on the intercom and introduced the two guys. As Robert led Micky towards the section of the bookstore housing his favorite genre, Micky called over his shoulder "When I'm done, I'll meet you back here and give you my impression. If I'm not back in three days, send a search party! Robert, I have trail mix in my pocket in case we need extra provisions." Robert and Gabby exchanged smiles of appreciation at being in the company of a true bibliophile.

An hour and a half later, Micky was back at the information desk with a stack of paperbacks and a couple of used hardbacks with lovely leather and gilt bindings. He showed Gabby his treasures and insisted she not only view the titles and book jackets, but inhale the smell of the bindings and paper. "Isn't this groovy? This is the first time in my life I've been able to afford to buy books from a place like this. I've always had to go to the library or maybe scoop up what I could find at the Goodwill or Salvation Army store. I'm so stoked!" He had a selection of his favorite authors, including J.R.R. Tolkien, Isaac Asimov, and Ray Bradbury. 

Gabby noticed the Bradbury book in his stack, _Fahrenheit 451_ , and commented "You know Bradbury lives here in L.A.? He's a local. He's done readings at this bookshop. I love that story. You're probably going to really dig it. It's about the love of books." 

Micky felt a warm glow in his belly, knowing that this girl – no, he had to stop thinking of her as 'this girl,' she was 'this woman,' – this woman had a fondness for the type of stories he liked, and they had something they could talk about in the future. He desperately wanted to find a point of contact with her. "Cool, maybe once I've read it we can talk about it." 

"Maybe," said Gabby noncommittally.

"So now that I'm about to give away a large portion of my net worth, I have just enough left to take you for a bite to eat when you get off work, if you're interested," Micky offered. Just at this moment, a guy emerged from a closet adjoining the information area with a huge stack of magazines in his arms. He called over to Gabby: "Hey, Gabby, you're gonna be at tonight's softball game, right? You remember how we got our asses handed to us last week by Crownenshield's Books and we're playing them again tonight." 

Gabby looked at him somewhat absentmindedly and then recalling her prior commitment, confirmed her participation. "Yeah, I'll be there. I'll need to go home to change first. Are we still using that same field as before?"

"Yeah, the one on UCLA campus down the street. Game starts at 7. Bring any extra gear you may have for the folks who don't have experience like you."

"Okay, will do." Gabby now turned back to Micky and gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, the timing's off on your invitation. We've got this inter-bookstore softball league going and I'm one of the few women who can actually hit a ball. I played the sport in high school, and I feel it's my responsibility to represent my gender proudly."

Micky was disappointed, plus it had not escaped his notice that when Gabby looked at Mr. Magazine Guy, she looked a bit starry-eyed and seemed to like that he appreciated her presence and leadership on the team. He decided to take this as a situation of bad timing and nothing more and be gracious and not pout. "No worries, maybe some other time. Have a great time at your game. What position do you play?"

"I prefer second base, but basically the dudes like to hog all the glamorous infield positions and put us chicks out in the outfield, so it's a constant battle. Tonight my strategy is going to be to 'accidentally' wander over to second base early and then hold my ground and not leave that spot come hell or high water. Either that or I'll 'accidentally' make contact with the metal bat and someone's dangly bits. Which do you recommend?" She gave him a mischievous grin.

"I heard from Pete that you're a pacifist and a kick-ass feminist, so I think the first strategy is more in keeping with your personality" Micky recommended.

"Good call. I like how you think. It's the more honest way to go. Maybe I'll bring the bat just in case. Only problem is it's going to humiliate the guy and hurt his pride. Why do guys put such a premium on image and dominance? While they're busy having their pissing contests and rutting and mating standoffs, women are busy doing the grunt work and quietly getting shit done, hoping they're making their mark on the world." She drifted off into thought, and Micky wondered whether she was trying to convey any subtext or coded message to him. It seemed more like she might have been recalling a memory from her past. He'd have loved to have asked her. He tucked it away for a future conversation, should he be fortunate enough to have another one.

"Anyway, I'm sorry about that, Micky. Can I have a raincheck?"

Micky smiled incandescently now. "Sure you can! We'll do something another night. I'll even let you have dominance and boss me around and tell me when. You've got my number. Just call me, if I don't get annoying and call you first."

With that, he said goodbye and headed off towards the till to pay for his stack of books, feeling like he'd had a genuinely honest and substantial encounter of which he could be proud and which could stand scrutiny by either his mom or his sisters. 

* * *

Mr. Magazine Guy's name was actually Dan, or Dazzling Dan, as Gabby referred to him when she mentioned him to Wendy and Dawn when he was first hired at the bookstore. He had the most dazzling green eyes and smile, and they lit up his whole face. The rest of him was fairly plain, and if you weren't paying attention, you wouldn't notice that he was actually pretty handsome in his own way. Again, this was now Gabby's new type of man – one who flew under the radar in terms of physical appeal. She didn't want to have to share her man with any other woman; she wanted to have discovered a diamond in the rough and to enjoy sole and exclusive rights to him. 

Dan's personality was engaging and mellow, though he didn't seem to have a whole lot of knowledge about literature or books of any sort. Gabby guessed that's why he got assigned to the magazine section, which really only required the skill to quickly sort and distribute the new titles as they arrived, pull the old ones that had expired and return them to the publisher, and to balance the inventory books, plus keep the magazine shelves tidy. Not rocket science, and not a task that required any enthusiasm or knowledge of authors, subject matter, or even reading. It was more like running a deli counter or bakery. So he didn't have any apparent intellectual heft, but that didn't particularly bother Gabby either. She'd gotten steamrolled by Nick and what he believed to be his intellectual superiority that he'd thought allowed him to defy the conventions of society and rules of civility and human decency, and she no longer wanted to be in the presence of a self-proclaimed genius who was in reality a selfish, egotistical cult figure. She was just looking for a good man who appreciated her for what she had to offer.

The only problem with Dan was that Gabby could not get him to truly notice her as a woman, nor get the hint that she wanted to go out on a date with him. She wasn't afraid to make the first move and ask him out on a date, but she felt that men today still required the ego stroking to be allowed to make the first move. So she had dropped hints, been very friendly to him, flirted fairly shamelessly with him, and made her status as a single woman known to him. She even would come in on her days off and pitch in and help him in the magazine department, telling him she just loved the job so much that she enjoyed being there even during her free time. So far, nothing had stuck. She was hoping that her prowess as a softball player would catch his eye, but alas, his only interest in her in that capacity was to save the store from ignominy in defeat. She was hoping that tonight, she could get him alone after the game and ask him out for a drink or a snack or something. 

After Simpsons had the game well in hand, in part due to Gabby getting two base hits and making an excellent play at second base (no baseball bat made contact with any dangly parts to secure her the position tonight), Gabby drifted over to Dan on the bench while he waited for his next turn at bat. "Hey, Dan, after the game is over, do you want to come out for a drink with me to the Red Hat? They do great mudslides. It's a fun drink, kind of like a chocolate milkshake. I could use a few calories after all this running around tonight."

Dan looked at Gabby as if he were seeing her as a datable woman for the first time. He considered her offer for a moment and then said "I really like you, Gabby, you're a nice person, and you're beautiful, but I don't think we should go out."

Gabby waited for a further explanation, but got none. This mystified her. If she had the ingredients necessary for romance – good personality and the looks – then what was missing?" Something was off, but he wasn't going to tell her what. Her system rejected this answer as if it had been given tainted meat. She wasn't going to take no for an answer. She plowed ahead. "Dan, I think we'd have fun together. Why don't you want to go out with me?"

Dan just shook his head enigmatically and said in a somewhat cryptic fashion "I've thought about it, but it just wouldn't be the right thing to do." And that was that. That's all he was going to give her.

For a moment, Gabby's ears heard the word "no" but her pride and other parts of her body thought she was hearing the word "maybe". Her mind was racing. 'Maybe if I pursue him harder, maybe if I give it some more time, maybe if I ask the girl from the children's department who's friends with him to ask him why he won't date me, she'll give me some insight and I can surmount this barrier.' Then she stopped the chattering squirrels in her head and realized something fundamental. No meant no. This guy didn't think he could be happy with her, and he was telling her so. He was doing her a favor in a very kind and compassionate way. True, he was disappointing her by not giving her what she wanted, but he was averting all sorts of further wasted effort and heartache. She suddenly realized she ought to be grateful, and knew that love isn't supposed to be a negotiation or coerced. If it's meant to be, it just happens.

"That's okay, Dan. I understand. Thanks for being upfront about it with me. I appreciate it. You're a good guy to break it to me that way." She smiled at him and made her way over to the sidelines and started to stretch out her now cramping muscles. She realized that, like with Fred, she had had a narrow escape, and that although this one hurt a hell of a lot more, the result was the same. She dodged a bullet and didn't end up dating someone she didn't belong with.

She wondered what was her next move. Who was next? She recalled back to her high school days, when she'd make lists of the cute guys she had crushes on, the ones who were way out of her league, the one who were maybes, the ones who were totally attainable but were nerdy or not even remotely attractive to her but whom she considered pursuing just so she wouldn't have to be without a boyfriend. She had liberated herself from that type of neediness when she had broken up with her last boyfriend, the charismatic and sadistic Nick, and it had been several months since she'd had a romantic partner, during which time she'd gained some perspective and gotten to know herself better. It was not the end of the world being without a man in her life. It dawned on her that it could do her a lot of good to just be dateless for a while, and to wait until someone came along whom she didn't have to woo hard or struggle to connect with. That if it was right it would just happen. So she vowed to ease up on her quest and to just roll with the flow, as Dawn liked to say. As soon as she let go of the wheel, she felt instantly better about the future, but more importantly, she felt better about her present.


	5. Chapter 5

Wendy and Gabby were huge Los Angeles Dodgers fans. For Gabby, her love of the game came not only from playing softball in high school, but because she had attended games with her father and siblings as a child in his company's corporate seats on the rare occasions when he wasn't on the road traveling. Wendy was more of a bleacher bum, and enjoyed buying tickets to the cheap seats in the bleachers, which really amounted to spots on metal benches that weren't even really reserved per se, and if the person sitting next to you had a particularly wide ass, you were shit out of luck. But the bleachers had their own special charm. They tended to be egalitarian, communal, raucous, primarily occupied by Hispanic, younger and lower-income folks, and families with kids, and a large portion of the audience was inebriated.

The girls decided to plan an outing for anyone who wanted to join them in the bleachers for the Wednesday, April 19th game against the Cincinnati Reds. All four Monkees signed on, and Davy opted to bring the girlfriend _du jour_ , who was a fair skinned, pale blonde English lass named Lynda, apparently chosen for the role so that Davy wouldn't be embarrassed to be the only clueless one about the rules of the game of baseball amongst the group. Wendy wondered whimsically whether Davy had a stake in a casting agency so that he could come up with the perfect date for any occasion as the situation called for. Micky and Gabby opted to go dateless, or so it seemed in their minds.

The roles of hunter/gatherer were divvied up on more or less equal lines in terms of burden, but fell to typical gender stereotypes in terms of substance. The guys took care of fetching beers, while the girls hunted down hot dogs, peanuts, popcorn, Cracker Jacks and other snacks. Gabby and Wendy had a serious fetish for Red Vine licorice and were taking no chances that they wouldn't be able to find it for sale at the stadium, so they brought a few boxes with them, smuggled under their coats and down their pants. There was a nervous few moments as they passed into the stadium gates, lest they get busted with their contraband goodies. Then they ran the gauntlet of the program sellers, stopping at their favorite guy who boomed out " _Pro_ -grams, _pro_ -grams, ya gotta have a _pro_ -gram!!! and opting to reward him with their hard-earned souvenir moolah. Gabby insisted that they visit a hot dog stand quite a ways away from the bleachers, near the seats she used to occupy with her family, to get the hot dogs called Dodger dogs. She had an inside tip that this particular stand boiled their hot dogs in beer, which made them taste far superior to the average Dodger dogs, and thus worth the extra walk.

Everyone got settled in, making sure that both Davy and Lynda had someone on their side who would be patient and knowledgeable enough to explain the rules of baseball to them. This meant that Wendy sat next to Lynda, and Gabby agreed to sit next to Davy. The row arranged itself as follows. Mike on the end so that he could stick his long legs out into the aisle for extra room, then Wendy to his right, then Lynda, then Davy, with Gabby to his right. Micky snuck in next to Gabby's other side, then he had Dawn on his right and finally Peter was on the other edge of the row next to Dawn, again with some extra leg room. Dawn was pleased to be sitting next to Micky, as she intended to scope him out as a person and figure out what his game was in terms of women in general and Gabby in particular. She hoped to try to figure out what sort of person he actually was. On the one hand, she thought the two would make a cute couple, but she knew that Gabby considered herself to have been emotionally and psychologically abused in her last relationship, and she couldn't stand to have her friend go through the emotional wringer again, particularly at the hands of one of her new beau's best friends. So she figured a little espionage on Gabby's behalf was warranted and certainly couldn't do any harm.

"So Micky, tell me about you," Dawn began, unsubtly. "Where are you from? How did you get hooked up with the Monkees? What's your story?"

"I grew up here in L.A. I'm a California boy. I started off in the acting biz because my father was in it. He was a television and movie star. Did you ever see the TV show _The Count of Monte Christo_? That was my dad. He also did movies and other television stuff. My mom was a singer and theater actress who also did a bit of film work but mostly just raised me and my sisters. I got involved in acting as a kid as well. I had a TV series called _Circus Boy_ when I was a kid of about 10 to 12, then I just stopped acting. Then I picked up the guitar, learning to play classical Spanish music. When I was in high school, I joined a few garage bands, but nothing serious until I met the fellas here and there and we formed the Monkees. And what about you, Dawn, how'd you make it here to L.A.? Seems like I don't meet too many natives these days."

Dawn replied "Well, I am a native, actually. I grew up in the Valley and then decided I wanted to be closer to the action near Los Angeles proper. I attended UCLA and was still living in this area when I ran into Wendy, who was looking for a roommate and posted a note on a school bulletin board. That's how she and I hooked up. She and Gabby were childhood friends, so when Gabby got ready to move back down here from UC Berkeley a few months ago, we found a place big enough for the three of us and now we live together in an apartment not far from where you guys gig and where Gabby works."

Micky was confused on the timing of Gabby's arrival in Los Angeles if she had graduated from college recently and it was now mid-April. What had kept her up north for longer than graduation? "I don't get it. If she graduated with her class last May, how come she just got down to L.A. recently?"

Dawn debated whether to tell Micky Gabby's story and whether to give him inside information as a way of greasing the skids between the two. Should she give him some much needed dope on why he needed to tread carefully with Gabby's heart? She decided to err on the side of taking the initiative of doling out the information and hope that it either wouldn't get back to Gabby, or that it wouldn't upset her for Micky to know if it meant that he treated her better as a result.

"Gabby was very involved with student activism and politics at Berkeley. She joined the Vietnam Day Committee, which was a very influential lefty, liberal, anti-war organization that staged protests and sit-ins to protest the Vietnam War. They organized the student body and did a lot of dramatic actions, like burning draft cards, staging protests where they burned the President in effigy, and marched to the local draft board and presented it with a black coffin. They were out to shock people out of their zombie-like acceptance of this unjustifiable and barbaric Vietnam War that was killing thousands of our young men for no discernible reason. They were part of a nationwide network of other organizations and universities as well.

"Anyway, Gabby was one of the few women in leadership in the organization and decided to hang around after graduation to keep on working for the cause and also because she was in a serious relationship with one of the male leaders and she wanted to continue her relationship with him. But eventually he started to freeze her out. He was threatened by her personal magnetism and the way she had of bringing people around to her way of thinking about how things with the Committee should be organized and how to incorporate more women into the movement, which until she joined was basically dominated by men and pretty chauvinistic. He also started to abuse her. He was very good looking, charismatic, and unfortunately narcissistic and manipulative, and he had a ton of groupies surrounding him. First he started out just by cheating on her, but then he started doing sick things like bringing other women home and doing them there, and then he got really twisted and tried to get her to have sex with him and them together, and then he wanted just her and the other women to have sex so he could watch. He was a total pig. He also didn't like Gabby thinking for herself and being an independent woman. He seemed threatened by the sway she had with the leadership of the Committee, particularly when one of her ideas was adopted instead of his. So he would shame her and put her down and try to destroy her confidence. He was bad news. So she finally had enough and dumped his sorry ass and left Berkeley and came back down here to L.A."

Micky exhaled a long breath, not having realized he'd been holding it in for most of the time Dawn was talking and relating Gabby's past to him. Pieces of the puzzle were slotting into place now, and he felt abjectly miserable and bereft for any further trauma he had caused by the way he had initially approached Gabby upon their first meeting. He, too, had been a pig. No other way of looking at it. He felt damn lucky to be sitting there beside Gabby and her friends instead of nursing a permanent gash in the goolies. These thoughts were writ large all over Micky's face, and Dawn perceived them all as they passed over his visage.

"You're putting it all together now, aren't you Micky? Where Gabby's coming from and why you made just about the worst first impression a guy could ever have made on her?" Dawn asked remorselessly.

"Yeah, I get it. You told me all that for that reason, didn't you, Dawn?" Micky faced her now, ready to take his medicine.

"I did, Micky. But not to hurt you or put you in your place or dance on your grave, but because I'm actually in your corner, I think. I'm pretty sure you're a solid guy who just lost his way and I think you and Gabby could be good together if you clean up your act and figure out how to get the train back on the track."

"So how can I do that? Does this chat come with any operating instructions? A how-to manual? Because as you know, we guys can be pretty thick when it comes to reading women and I've proved to be as thick as they come," admitted Micky humbly.

"Yeah, I've got a tip for you. Be her friend. Gain her trust. Show her you care about her as a person. Lay off the romance for now. Take an interest in her as a person first. If it's meant to be that you're to become lovers, it will happen because you built a solid foundation first. She says she's looking for safe and boring and vanilla, that she doesn't want anyone exciting and obviously handsome and charismatic and tutti frutti, and Micky, you're all that and a can of corn. But I think she's bullshitting herself. She wants tutti frutti without the heartache. So stop trying to tone yourself down and be this milquetoast, nonthreatening guy you think she's in the market for, like Fred or Dazzling Dan – "

"Dan?" Micky interrupted, quizzically.

"Dazzling Dan, he's the guy who works the magazine section at Simpsons. He shot her down after the softball game the other night. He's another vanilla, boring guy who she thought would be safe to hit on, but he wasn't interested in her and wouldn't tell her why. Now she's ready to enter the nunnery and says she doesn't need men in her life anymore. That's bullshit. She just needs the _right_ man. Be that man for her, Micky, but be her friend first. Get to know who she is and figure out if who that person is is someone you could respect, cherish, love, lift up and share life equally with, because that is a quote straight from Gabby as to what she's looking for in a guy. I don't know if you're ready for that in a woman, and if you're not, then go back to your groupies and keep having fun and being immature and flitting from flower to flower. Gabby won't hold it against you and neither will Wendy or I. But don't mess around with Gabby's heart or head. She's been through enough. Are we clear?"

"Yeah, I get what you're telling me. Thank you for trusting me with that information, and for giving me a clear read on the situation. And thanks for giving me that rare insight into the woman's point of view. Most guys don't get that and they'd all kill for it." He reached over and squeezed Dawn's hand and leaned over and told Peter, lest he get jealous, "You're a lucky guy, Pete, to have snagged yourself such a groovy chick. I'm glad to have her as a friend." Pete broke into a smile and said "She spreads love and light wherever she goes. She's my sunny girlfriend." Then he put his arm around her and snuggled her close for a hug and kissed the top of her head.

Micky now turned to gaze at the back of Gabby's head which was leaning over the program and in towards Davy's ear so he could hear her instructions over the roar of the crowd. She was deeply engrossed in explaining what was happening on the field to Davy, who was taking great pride in the lesson she was giving him in how to keep the score on the scorecard provided in the program. Davy shouted at Micky "'Ey, mate, if you're gonna do something, it's best done properly! I'm going to end up knowing more than all you Yanks put together once Gabby's done showing me the ropes!"

"What do you think of the grub, Davy?" Micky inquired.

"Those Dodger dogs are smashing, but keep me away from the beer. It tastes like piss water, and the prices! So not worth it. Next time we come I'll bring me hip flask instead. Oy, Lynda, 'ow you doing with those Cracker Jacks? Did you find the prize yet? Feed Uncle Davy a nibble so I can keep marking the score and keep me 'ands clean!"

Davy was in his element, surprisingly enough, and Micky smiled to see his friend enjoying himself so thoroughly instead of feeling like a fish out of water, having never experienced baseball as a child growing up in Manchester, England. Not that Davy was familiar with the British analog game of cricket either, it being a rich man's game for the most part. Davy had grown up poor, like Mike, and had been a scrappy lad who played "football" or what Americans referred to as soccer. Micky now glanced to his right to see how Peter was enjoying the game, and noticed that he and Dawn were ingesting not snack foods but some sort of strange mushroomy looking foodstuffs, and he surmised that they were going to be experiencing the game in an altered state of consciousness that the rest of the gang would not be privy to. To each his own, Micky philosophically decided.

Micky tapped Gabby on the shoulder, about to inquire as to whether she was enjoying the game, but when she turned around, he was startled to see that she had two long red fangs protruding from her mouth. In truth, she was eating two Red Vine licorice pieces simultaneously while using her hands to point out various features of the score card to Davy and point to the action on the field. Micky let loose a giant belly laugh and yanked a piece from Gabby's mouth and stuffed it in his. There was an awful moment when they were both in suspended animation, and he was wondering whether Gabby would blow her stack at his cheeky presumptuousness or find his familiarity and love of Red Vines endearing. Fortunately, she opted for the latter reaction and giggled, then put the box on his lap and took another one and stuffed it in his mouth and replaced the missing one he stole with a new piece in her own mouth. Then they both smiled at each other broadly like two crazed vampires dripping blood from their fangs and laughed even harder.

Wendy and Mike went in search of a baseball cap for Wendy and another beer for Mike. Mike insisted she get the authentic replica of the player's hat, not the touristy crappy ones on offer. "Why do you want to get me that one, Mike, it's a lot more expensive?" Wendy inquired.

Mike replied "Because you're the real deal, Wendy. You're not a stinkin' tourist, you're a serious fan. Plus, it looks adorable on you and it turns me on!" He blushed a little as he confessed this last part.

Wendy sidled up to Mike and purred "Oh yeah, does it? You don't mind me being a sports nut?"

"Nope. I would only mind you not bein' you, darlin'."

"Thanks for that, Mike. That's been my trouble my whole life, trying to figure out when it's safe to be me. It's nice to know that the older I get, the more confident I can be that who I am is the right me and that there are people who appreciate that."

"I know what you mean. But you know what, you can't spend your life worryin' about what other people think. You gotta make your own way. Birds of a feather will flock together. Or Monkees. Or whatever animals belong together. Now I'm just talkin' foolishness, but you dig what I'm sayin'. For me, I thought the only thing that's been missin' is a woman who could stand mah ornery and contrary personality, but now I realize it's not that at all. I'm not that way when I don't feel backed up into a corner. When I feel accepted and understood, I know I don't have to push anyone away. I can just be me. So far, you haven't given me any reason to push you away and I haven't bitten your head off yet. But if I ever do, I'm gonna apologize now in advance and I want you to think back on this conversation we're havin' so you know it's most likely me that's havin' the crisis, not that I've got a problem with you. You hear me, you get it?"

"Yeah, I get it. And likewise, if you see me crying like a little baby and losing my nerve and thinking you don't care about me after all just because you didn't say the right thing I needed to hear on any particular day, just know it's because I'm a super-sensitive person who has almost zero self-esteem and not a lot of experience being accepted for who I am. I can guarantee you we are going to run into problems and misunderstandings, Mike. I just hope that both of us being mavericks (that's Gabby's nickname for me, "the Maverick") and ornery and stubborn won't prevent us from coming back together to talk things through and work it out, even if it means we just part as friends. Can we promise to do that?" Wendy looked up at him now with a wobble to her bottom lip like she could feel something slipping away from her right then and there.

Mike reached for her and held her tightly in his arms. "I promise you that much, Wendy. I promise to hear you out. Or at least to listen, even if my stubbornness doesn't allow me to hear. And then you can get one of your gals to translate it to me or beat it into me."

Wendy crossed her arms and said "You're gonna regret that you said that, Mikey! My girls can be pretty fierce!"

Mike smiled his crooked grin and said "I can take it. I'm serious about you, Wendy, and I want to do this right, and I can take all the help I can get. I don't want you to think I just think you're a pretty girl I'm attracted to just for sex. I'm lookin' for more than that at this point in my life. I'm not even just lookin' for a girlfriend. That's not what women seem to want these days anyway. They don't want a man ownin' them and showin' them off as trophies and expectin' them to cater to their needs. I'm lookin' for a partner in mah life. I don't mean marriage right now, it's too soon to talk about things like that cuz we don't know each other well enough to be even thinkin' of that and I don't have my life and career in order yet, but what I mean when I say life partners is I want to support you, not just with your hangups, but in the things that are important to you in your life, and I hope you'll want to do that for me. We have so much in common in what we haven't had with other people and what we need from each other. I want to give you that and I hope you're up for supportin' me in that way, too, or at least I hope that's the direction we're headin' in. Partners in life and love. How's that strike you?"

Wendy was truly startled. No one, other than Gabby, had ever given her a blank check of unconditional support and affirmation, not to mention a commitment towards a future of more to come, particularly a man. "Well, Mike, that sounds like an offer that's too good to pass up. I want to take you up on that. I've never even thought about the concept of guys and gals being life partners. It always seems like the guy tries to own the gal, and I friggin' hate that! I'm my own person and I do my own thing, or at least that's what Gabby will tell you. Maybe that's why no guy has ever stuck around for long, or maybe that's why I've been afraid to get close to a guy, or maybe it's my insecurity, or maybe it's all of those things. I'm willing to give it a go. I'll warn you, though, I don't have much experience with this, so like I said, if I mess things up, let's try to remember to regroup and talk things through."

"Sounds good to me, Wendy. I'm real crazy about you, you know that, don't you?"

"No, I didn't, but I do now and I'm glad. I feel the same way about you." She reached up on her very tippy toes and requested a kiss, which he bent down to give her.

Wendy brightened and readjusted the hat on her head. "Okay, even us wallflowers need to have fun once in a while. No more group therapy for the heavily insecure tonight. Let's go eat our way through that damn Cracker Jack box! I want my prize!"

"You got it. Right after I get my overpriced, piss water, lukewarm cup of beer. I think Davy has the right idea about sneakin' in a flask the next time we come here!" Mike paid for Wendy's hat and they went off in search of the beer concession, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

It was an exciting game that went into extra innings, with the Dodgers winning it in a walkoff in the bottom of the tenth by one run. Peter and Dawn were only barely aware of the mechanics of the game, particularly in their inebriated state of mind, but they sensed the light at the end of the tunnel and were happy to have a reason to celebrate, so they began flinging pieces of popcorn into the air and at the rest of their friends to express their joy at the outcome of the game. As they all filed out to the parking lot, it was decided to mix boys and girls in their two vehicles and keep the party going by adjourning to the girls' apartment.

On the way home to the apartment, Dawn, who was still flying high on the 'shrooms, told Gabby she had filled Micky in on Gabby's past experience with Nick and had warned him to tread carefully with Gabby. If Dawn had been sober, Gabby might have been harsher in her rebuke of Dawn, or at least had a sensible conversation with her about the relative merits about whether it was wise of her to have had that conversation and what the plusses and minuses would be, and what the fallout would be now that the toothpaste was out of the tube. But she knew that all this was beside the point and that Dawn was in no fit state to talk about anything. Being forced to hold in suspended animation any judgment or resentment she might feel towards what she thought was a breach of etiquette, if not trust, on Dawn's part, Gabby reflected that on the whole, it was just as well that Micky knew the lay of the land and where he stood, and even more convenient that she, Gabby, didn't have to be the one to explain it all to him. It would seem presumptuous of her to shut down advances he hadn't even made again, and it did no harm to see what if anything he would do with the information he now held.

As they entered the girls' apartment, Gabby crowed to Wendy "I did it, I did it! I didn't get a piece of Cracker Jack stuck to me!" Wendy high-fived her and hugged her tightly, yelling "Woooo, it's a record!!!"

Michael was all at sea and Micky was supremely amused at the silliness arrayed before him. He demanded to be let in on the inside joke. "What's the story behind this world-beating record?"

Gabby explained "Well, every damn time Wendy and I go to a Dodgers game, we buy a box of Cracker Jack and mow through it and then somehow I end up with at least one or two pieces of it stuck to my pants or my shirt or something. But tonight I finally made it home with nothing on me, not a speck! Woo hoooo!!!!" Gabby reached for Micky and asked for a two high-fives, which he was glad to return. Gabby then went dashing off to the bathroom as it had been a long drive home.

A few moment later, Gabby emerged from the bathroom with her head hung low and a look of frustration and consternation on her face. She was pissed off. Wendy looked alarmed and cried "What's up, _chica_? Why are you bummed out?"

Wendy wordlessly turned around and pointed to a small brown nugget of caramel popcorn stuck to her left ass cheek. Everyone exploded with laughter, and Wendy ran for her little Instamatic camera to memorialize the hilarious moment of ignominy and mirth. Gabby harrumphed and picked off the offending piece of Cracker Jack, then dropped it in the trash can and went to the bedroom to change her pants, murmuring obscenities under her breath.

As was common with many apartment complexes in the greater Los Angeles area, the girls' complex had a common area equipped with a pool, Jacuzzi, fire pit, patio chairs and loungers. Davy and Mike offered to make a liquor store and munchies run if one of the girls would guide the way. Wendy acted as Sherpa to the wilds of Safeway supermarket and the local liquor store and they returned with provisions for a fiesta. Everyone settled in and the only thing missing was the boys' instruments, so Dawn brought out her transistor radio and they listened to KHJ play the day's popular tunes.

Everyone paired off, with the exception of Micky and Gabby. Peter and Dawn were supinely boneless on a lounger, with Peter lying down with Dawn between his splayed out legs and her head lolling on his chest. They were trying ineffectually to identify the constellations, so Micky, being a science geek, was making an effort to guide their view. Gabby found his deep knowledge of the stars fascinating, and she scooted her chair closer to him to listen to him expound on the mythical origins of the formations' names and their seasonal movement. He reminisced about how he and his father used to catalog the stars when he was a boy, and mentioned how he lost his dad at the relatively young age of 17. This tidbit of news was heartbreaking for Gabby to hear, and she asked Micky some questions about how it had affected him at the time and the trajectory of his life. He was very open in sharing his feelings and thoughts and held nothing back. Gabby said she appreciated his candor, and felt less discomfort at his knowing about things from her past, and mentioned that she knew that Dawn had spoken of her Berkeley boyfriend to him. He didn't go into any detail about the conversation other than to say he was glad he know more about her as well and hoped they'd get to know each other better.

Davy was pouring over his scorecard with Lynda, and she was praising his and her immersion in the American pastime as a demonstration of their indomitable spirit. She didn't just praise Davy alone, but included herself in the compliment. She was not the typical Davy type of girl. She was pretty, but not a stunner, wasn't fluffy or fawning, and had no doting nature. She was a fun girl and supportive but more like a fellow traveler who knew the path Davy had walked to get where he had arrived. There was something different about Lynda, and the others sensed it but kept their mouths shut. But secretly, they hoped she might actually stick around. They liked her for her normality, her desire to be a partner, not an ego-pumper, and a companion, not a cuddly toy, like the well-used girl in the title of one of Davy's songs. Time would tell, and depressingly soon, reflected one and all.

The guys and Wendy returned with their stash of eats and drinks and the party really got underway. By now, Dawn and Peter had the munchies and started to mow through the junk food. Mike and Wendy had bitten off the ends of the Red Vines and were using them as straws to sip on daiquiris they mixed up in the blender. Micky and Gabby thought this idea was genius and joined in. Davy thought this disgusting and opted for the pint of whiskey he had procured.

Soon everyone was mellow and singing along with the radio, and the guys insisted that the non-professional singers now take their turns performing solos. With liquid courage bolstering them, some not-half-bad performances emerged, and solos turned into duets and trios and group sing-a-longs and back to solos again. It was the precursor to what years later would be called karaoke, and it was a blast.

Now the dancing commenced, which was comical to the extreme. For a start, Peter and Dawn were bumbling and stumbling and twirling around like whirling dervishes, until they got so dizzy they ended up on the ground on their backs like two snow angels, which led them back to an examination of the constellations. Davy was now three sheets to the wind, having consumed a significant quantity of the whiskey, and he kept changing the dance steps on Lynda so that she couldn't keep up with his lead and was consistently a step or two behind him and giggling madly as she tried to catch up. Then someone switched the radio to a romantic station and the tunes slowed down and the couples all hugged and clutched. But Michael, who was afraid to dance in public and loathed it, and who towered over Wendy, opted to literally hoist her off the ground and just hug her while her feet dangled above the ground and carried her around until she wrapped her legs around his waist and they drifted off to a quiet corner to enjoy what ended up dissolving into a passionate make out session. This left Micky and Gabby as the only two sane and unattached dancers left. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Micky stood up and held out his hand to her and led her into a simple waltz leaving a respectful few inches between them.

As they swayed to the music, Gabby asked "What do you want, Micky?"

"You mean right at this moment, next week, next month, a year from now, eventually, for the rest of my life? Do you mean with my career, for my friends, for my family, for the world? Be more specific. I don't want to embarrass myself or bore you." Micky felt gun shy and didn't want to spook Gabby or make a fool of himself.

"Fair enough. Let me rephrase that. What do you want from me, Micky?"

Micky stated simply "A second chance. A do-over. I'd like to court you properly. That means I want to be your friend first. Get to know who you are, let you know who I am. Then you can figure out whether you think I'm good enough for you, whether you think I respect you enough and can treat you right. I know I'm an outsized personality, like that guy you dated before, and I'm not going to change that about myself. But how about if you see if maybe you can tolerate that? Maybe you don't need vanilla or a nunnery. Maybe you just need some time to build trust in me as I am. I'd like to earn that trust. That's what I want. So now I'll ask you. What do you want?"

Gabby sighed and looked off into the distance, as if trying to recall how she ended up in the hole she had dug for herself. "I'd like to erase what happened to me in the past and not be the damaged person I am. I'd like to have walls that aren't so high and defenses that aren't so inflamed. It's not easy for me not to let the trauma I feel dictate my reactions. I've gone so far to the other extreme that my situation is becoming just as unhealthy now as what I ran from. I have the illusion of control but what it really amounts to is isolation and loneliness. I'd like a romance, and I've been flailing around trying to get one off the ground without remembering that it starts with friendship and a spark of attraction, not just guarding my heart from getting hurt and going with what feels safe. So yes, I think I'd like what you'd like. A do-over. I'd like to be friends and see where that goes. I don't want the nunnery, and I guess despite my protestations, I've got an affinity for tutti frutti." She said this last part with a wry smile. "Did Dawn spill that part to you in her stoner haze?"

"Yeah, she told me about that. Apparently I'm pretty tutti frutti and that scared you off. But I've got news for you, woman, you are, too. That's why you caught my attention in the first place. You stand out in a crowd and you are so out there, so extra. I had my eye on you for weeks before I worked up the courage to approach you. You were not the whim of a moment, despite what you think about how I operate. You were someone special I wanted to be with. It's true I wanted to rush the process. I was crude and results-oriented, and inconsiderate and thinking with the wrong part of my body. But that doesn't negate the fact that I saw something extraordinary in you, and I still do. And if I thought you were just a piece of ass, I'd have blown you off when you turned me down the first time and just moved on, because my pride would have been hurt and I'd be on the rebound already. But I can't get you off my mind and I can't get you out of my heart. You're already in there. I'm not saying it's love, but it's care. I care. And that means there's the basis of something, friendship at a minimum."

Gabby had a warm glow in her belly now, rising to her chest and settling in her heart, which was beating faster and making the vein in her neck throb. She was afraid the tears would spring to her eyes, and that she could not allow. Thank God, she reflected, she had not drunk much alcohol and was pretty much sober. She wanted to have her wits about her and make a rational decision, or at least a decision that was in her best interests. Maybe rationality had no place in affairs of the heart, but good judgment depended on making sure she stayed true to her ideals.

"Let's be friends then, Micky, and see where that takes us. No expectations, no pressure, but no limits either. I won't clamp down if you won't steamroll me. I'm skittish and you're overeager. If we can try to find a happy medium, if we can figure out who each other is and who we are together and if it clicks and it feels good, then I'll have no reservations, because what I really do want is love and romance and to be cherished and supported as an equal partner in life by a man who values what I have to offer. But I'll be honest about what I don't want. I don't want to be a notch on your bed post, I don't want to be an ego boost for you, I don't want to be your mother or your wifey or your blowup doll or sex toy or your inferior. I've already been through that and I'll never be subjugated again.

"I'm traumatized and still getting over it, so I may tend to overreact. And you've been living a life that upon reflection you're not proud of now and you've got some baggage there, and I understand that, too. So we both have some healing to do. I'll support you if you'll support me. I think we could have a lot of fun together. I think you're a talented, interesting, funny, sweet, handsome guy. And of course you're good enough for me. The question is are you right for me. And for the record, I actually really do prefer tutti frutti."

She smiled into his hazel eyes and he looked deeply back into her eyes, which also were hazel, except for when they filled with tears, in which case they were green, like right now. He rubbed his nose against hers and gave her a hug and twirled her around as the song ended and the waltz ceased. Then they embraced as the next song began, heedless of the faster tempo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, leave kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd love to know who is reading the story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

The letter arrived at the Pad a few days later, on Saturday. Mike knelt down to retrieve the pile of mail that had fallen through the mail slot onto the floor. He noticed the military return address and the official governmental seal on the envelope. Having been in the Air Force for two years, he knew right away what the letter meant, and having known the guys for years and gleaned through conversations with them about their own life stories which of them had already run this gauntlet and escaped their doom, he knew it could only be addressed to one of them. He confirmed the name on the letter and solemnly walked it over to Davy, who was lounging on the psychiatrist's couch that was one of the main and more stable pieces of furniture in their rundown, quirkily furnished beach house. 

Peter was on the elevated stage near the bay windows where they kept their instruments and which they used as a practice area, restringing his bass. Micky, a later sleeper, had just woken up and was descending the metal tornado staircase from the bedroom he and Mike shared on the second floor. Mike's grim expression and deliberate gate caught both Micky and Peter's attention as their eyes shot towards Davy. They could smell trouble and, as Peter cryptically put it, the universe was permeated with the odor of turpentine – it stunk. 

Davy held his hand out for the letter, received it, then reading the return address, his hand trembled and faltered and the envelope fell to the ground. He shot up from the couch and sprang away from the letter as if it were a hairy black tarantula. Then, summoning his courage and taking a deep breath, he bent over to retrieve it and opened it up and scanned the contents. 

"So, it's come. I've got three weeks to report for me physical. Then they send me over to the other side of the world to almost certain death to fight in a war that makes no sense and has nothing to do with this country or the one I was born in. And what for? So one tiny country nowhere near ours doesn't become communist? So that one country can't decide for itself what it wants to do and be and how to live? So that we can show the world that our dick is bigger than anyone else's?"

Mike put his hand on Davy's shoulder and said "It's a lousy situation, Davy. We can only hope you can get out of it somehow. Maybe they'll think you're too small or somethin'."

Davy glared at him at first but then decided not to take offense like he normally would. He polled the guys "How come none of you fellas are over in Vietnam now? How come I'm the lucky bastard who gets to represent the Monkees?"

Mike said "Well for me, I already did mah stint a few years ago in the Air Force, so unless things get mighty awful over there and they start conscriptin' lousy mechanics who have a tendency to tip over generals' airplanes, I reckon they don't want me."

Micky's story was a little more harrowing. "I got called up right before I met you guys, and I thought for sure it had to be a mistake, because I had this childhood disease called Perthes Disease that affected my leg and left it weak and a tiny bit shorter than the other one. But they still made me come in for a physical. Fortunately, they flunked me because I was too skinny. What's your story, Pete? Did you get called up?"

"Yeah, I did. My story's a bit embarrassing, but I'm not ashamed of what I did because it's immoral to fight in an immoral war. I told them I was gay."

Micky and Davy's eyes bugged out of their heads and they wondered whether Peter had put his money where his mouth was, literally, to make sure his story had the ring of authenticity. Only Micky had the _cajones_ to ask, though. "Were you, I mean, are you gay, Pete? Did you have to prove it? Did you, I mean, you know..."

Pete's eyes became expressionless like two windows whose shades had been pulled down, like the lights were on but no one was home. He simply said "I did what I had to do. I'm not gay, as far as I know. I saved my life and I saved my soul."

* * *

The Monkees were playing the music and the girls were dancing to it, but something was distinctly off. There was no joy, no groovy vibe, no synergy and no high. Everything was mechanical and rote and almost grim. Gabby felt like she was attending a wake, not a gig. 

When the first set ended and the guys went on break, she hurried over to Micky and pulled him aside, asking him for a quick word. He gave her a hug but no smile. At first, she wondered whether something had changed between them and the agreement they had formed to forge a relationship of some indeterminate closeness had soured in his mind and he was getting cold feet or having regrets about meeting her terms of a go-slow approach. Then she realized that not everything in the universe revolved around her and decided to just ask Micky what she intended to, which was what the hell was up with the Monkees.

"Micky, what's going on with you guys? I'm picking up on some serious downer vibes and I'm concerned. Is there something wrong? Can I help?"

Micky's dour expression suddenly turned hopeful and optimistic and he exclaimed, "Yeah, I think maybe you _can_ help us, Gabby. If there's anyone we know who can, it would be you. I can't get into the details now, but the bottom line is, Davy got a draft letter this morning. He's got three weeks to report for his physical. Dawn told me you were hooked up with the anti-war movement up at Berkeley. Can you try to think of a way to help him?"

"Sure, Micky. I've already got it covered. I know exactly what we can do to help our little fella. Leave it to me. And go tell him not to worry. We're going to make sure Uncle Sam doesn't get his mitts on our precious Manchester Midget."

Micky's shoulders slumped in relief and he sighed contentedly. "Thanks, Gabby. You're a pal. I'll tell the guys. Can I see you after the show?"

"Sure, Micky. Let's see what the others want to do and we'll make plans. I'm not sure whether group activities are still happening now that things are heating up with the others. We'll play it by ear. Now go have a great rest of your gig. Let the music soothe your souls." She opened her arms to give him a hug, and he fell into them as if an oasis of relief lay in them. Then they parted and he bounded over to the other guys, who were at the bar fetching refreshments.

The show ended and the Monkees and the girls convened a council of war at Eat at Ed's. Everyone was pleasantly surprised to see that Lynda was still among the fold and welcomed her back warmly. Once eats and drinks had been ordered, Davy looked to Gabby and began to confide and beseech.

"Gabby, Micky says you know all about how to beat the draft. I'm goin' out of me flippin' mind! I don't know what to do. Should I try to get to Canada? I can't leave me mates and the band. But if I don't, I could end up dead. I could try to go back to England, but there's nothing there for me, and who's to say I wouldn't end up getting called a draft dodger if I did go back there? If they find out I dodged the draft over there, I couldn't get a job anywhere, even though England hasn't seen fit to involve itself in this war. Bunch of hypocrites. Over there they call you a white feather, meaning coward, which is just awful. Am I right, Lynda?"

Lynda nodded her head emphatically. "It's like being called a faggot or nigger over here. It's hateful and wrong and ignorant. And the lasses wouldn't give him the time of day. Davy's a proud man. It would destroy him."

Davy looked gratefully to Lynda for her sympathetic view of his situation, including his need to save face with women. Something flickered in his expression resembling affection plus something else, like he was not used to being seen as a person with a beating heart and a soul and not just arm candy by a woman, and he appreciated this new sensation. Then it was gone again as the fear of his situation crept back into his consciousness. But Micky missed nothing. He noticed it and marked it with approval. Maybe there was hope for Davy's reformation as well as his own. 

Gabby put her hand on Davy's shoulder and hushed him and tried to calm him down. "Davy, Canada isn't an option anyway, so don't torture yourself with that. If you were going to do that, you'd have had to do it months ago. That's what premeditated conscientious objectors do. It takes time and planning. It's already too late for that. And as for England, well, I'll take your word for it on that score. I've got another option for you, but it's going to involve some discomfort."

"I can take it! I'll do whatever I need to do! Lay it on me, Gabby!"

At this moment, the waitress approached the table with their orders. She placed in front of Davy a plate with a hamburger and fries and next to it a chocolate milkshake. Gabby waited until the rest of the food had been distributed and Davy had picked up his burger and was about to take a bite, then she spoke again.

"Okay, Jonesy, hold it right there! Put that burger down. You are now from this moment on starvation rations. If you want to avoid the draft, you need to weigh less than 100 pounds. You look to be about five foot three, am I right? So for your height, if you can weigh in under a hundy, then you won't meet their standards and they'll classify you as 4-F, which means unfit to serve, which means no state-sponsored Far East visit to the jungle, ya dig?"

Davy looked at Gabby, then he looked at the burger, juicy and dripping with grease, then at the rest of the bounty of calories arrayed before him. His mouth salivated and his stomach grumbled. Then he summoned up the fearsome images that had passed through his mind that morning when he received the draft letter and he calmly put the burger back down on his plate and he said "Okay, sounds like a plan. I'm in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, leave kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd love to know who is reading the story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

The guys felt it was high time the gals saw the Pad in Malibu and enjoyed its beachfront amenities, so they invited them over for the following Thursday, since everyone had the day off. Lynda felt especially touched that she was included, knowing that the rest of the group was more or less a cohesive unit of friends and lovers at this point, and that Davy was a gigolo who never kept a steady girl around for very long. She knew she was living on borrowed time and was determined not to get attached, but she was enjoying herself for the moment and decided to carpe the fuck out of the diem. Seize the day, or rather, seize the Davy, while the opportunity presented itself, and then bow out gracefully when he was inevitably ready to move on. Maybe she'd end up with some new girlfriends in any case.

As they entered the Pad, the girls were treated to an experience not unlike an acid trip or a romp through a funhouse. The décor was quirky, sometimes utterly absurd or non-functional, and at times downright scary. The furniture was rickety and outmoded, obviously gleaned from thrift shops and probably snatched from sidewalks before the garbage trucks could pick up their haul. The walls were decorated with movie posters and artsy fartsy installations, but also homemade signs like "In case of fire run!" and a cross stitch sampler with the legend "Money Is The Root Of All Evil," at which Gabby nodded approvingly.

Dawn drifted over to the big picture windows looking out at the beach like a moth to a flame. She was a sun child and gravitated to it like the moon to the Earth's orbit. Wendy and Gabby were fascinated by the stage area and the instruments carefully arranged on it. Lynda stood stock still in horror in front of a frightful wooden dummy reclining in a chair at the kitchen table. It was wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and black tie, and it had horn rimmed glasses and a mocking gap-toothed grin on its face. She noticed it had a string attached to its chest and decided to pull it. It intoned "Carpe diem and don't forget to pass the ketchup." She jumped back about three feet and shrieked. Davy rushed to her and embraced her with tender, loving concern. He guided her away from the kitchen and settled her down on the couch, patting her hand and reassuring her that their dummy, Mr. Schneider, had a sick sense of humor and was always messing with everyone's girlfriends and to just ignore him.

Micky suggested the gals use the downstairs bedroom to change into their bathing suits, and the guys would use the upstairs one. Everyone came out arrayed in various beachwear, except Michael and Wendy, who were both modest and insecure about their bodies. They giggled at each other and embraced each other with hugs and smiles of recognition at the poetic justice that they had found their soulmate in that regard. Michael had on long board shorts and a t-shirt, and Wendy was wearing capris and a sleeveless shell over her bathing suit for now until she felt more comfortable with her situation to show her swimsuit. The rest of the guys had on the more standard short bathing suit shorts and the gals had on bikinis or one-piece swimsuits, loosely covered with beach cover-ups or windbreakers.

Peter moved towards Dawn and claimed her, slinging his arm over her shoulder with his guitar slung over his own shoulder. She carried towels and a beach bag. Her bikini was yellow with purple and orange flowers. "Babe, you look like a field of flowers I want to run through and loll around in all day," said Peter.

"You have free reign to tiptoe through my tulips all day long, Pete," she punned and gave him a smooch.

Lynda coincidentally was wearing a red one-piece bathing suit that matched Davy's to a T. "You look smashing, Lynda, like a cherry pie."

"Or strawberry pie, like the girl in your song where you're dating two at a time? As long as you don't think I'm a cherry delight, like in the Cuddly Toy song. I think that one's not very complimentary about the girl you're singing about," Lynda wrinkled her nose.

Davy looked stunned. "Wow, I can't believe you've analyzed our lyrics so closely! That's dedication, that is. You're really on the ball, Lynda."

"Well, I'm not a cuddly toy, and I'm not a groupie either. I've been paying attention and I've got a brain. I hope that's something that counts with you, Davy." Lynda was speaking to Davy but looking over his shoulder and had Gabby in her field of vision. The two ladies had had a chance to discuss a few things on the drive up to Malibu. Lynda then kissed Davy on his stunned face and sauntered out the window towards the beach.

Micky had a big grin on his face and sidled up to Gabby, bumping shoulders with her and bending down to whisper to her "Oooh, Davy hasn't even hit the sunlight yet and already he's gotten burned!"

"You over your scalding yet, Dolenz?" Gabby

"Nah, my ass is still on fire. I'm still using aloe lotion on a daily basis."

"Good. Now I want you to get over it and stop atoning. Let's absolve you of your sins and get on with our lives. If you want to do me a solid, maybe you can help Lynda by having a quiet word with Davy. That would help balance out your karma."

"I'm already on it," nodded Micky. "I've been paying attention to the situation and hoping Lynda is able to get through that thick skull of his and makes an honest man of him. I'll stay discreetly on the case."

"Thanks, Micky. She's a great gal and she's just what he needs. Whether he's what she needs is still an open question, but she seems keen to take him on."

"Well he's damn lucky, because he's going through hell. Davy's a fitness nut and he usually eats a ton of food to make up for the energy he burns up. Now he's exercising to lose weight plus not eating to replace the energy he burns. I predict we're all going to be looking for ways to escape the Pad while Davy makes life unbearable for us as his tummy grumbles and he gets progressively more cranky. He's got a sharp temper and a foul mouth even when life's more or less humming along for him. Add starvation and fear of perishing thousands of miles away from home in an unjust war and God knows what will life will be like the closer we get to his physical."

"Good thing you decided to make a new friend then. I've got plenty of free time and a cozy living room couch." Gabby smiled shyly at Micky. "And you just bought all those new books! We can geek out over our books together."

"Sounds like a little slice of heaven. Let's hit the beach. I think you'll like it and want to come back when we have our celebration party for Davy's emancipation." They walked out the door bumping arms and grinning at each other, Micky sneaking a peek at her shapely form in a plum colored one-piece with a plunging neckline and a flirty skirt. He allowed her to walk a bit in front of him so he could admire her strong, defined legs leading up to a prominent caboose and curvy hips that balanced out what he estimated to be size D breasts and broad shoulders that displayed clothes well. She was fit and toned, and her body was made to support her through the exertions of life, not just to attract the opposite sex, which he admired. If he had to describe her in two words it would be womanly and voluptuous, but not in the Jayne Mansfield sexpot sense. More like the Jane Russell sense – a woman who could take care of herself and hold her own in a gym full of sweaty men or confront a sneaky private detective trying to frame her best friend, like in the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.

* * *

Gabby and Lynda sat next to each other on the sand, bonding over a couple of common interests they had discovered on their drive up to Malibu. Lynda and she were both very keenly interested in fashion, and Lynda had both educational and professional experience in it. She had done her undergraduate degree at in fashion technology and textiles at the London College of Fashion, and was now working at a chic clothing boutique on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, Los Angeles's most exclusive and luxurious shopping street. The other passion they shared was old movies, and for both of them a big attraction was the costumes. Lynda's long-term goal was to try to break into the entertainment industry and become a costumier. She and Gabby swapped oohs and ahhs about their favorite film designers, like the multi-Oscar winning Edith Head, the queen of the Hollywood backlot and a personal heroine of Gabby's because she had kicked over all obstacles and made it to the top as a woman in a man's world. They both also admired designers who were so famous they went by single names, such as Irene, who clothed Lana Turner in one of Gabby's favorite noir classics, The Postman Always Rings Twice, and Adrian, who was incredibly creative and prolific, designing the iconic gingham dress and ruby slippers for The Wizard of Oz, as well as an incredibly array of dazzling couture fashions for The Women, another favorite of Gabby's since not only did it star Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford, two of her favorite actresses, but the entire cast was female, right down to the animals that appeared in the film.

Gabby confided "I love to go to secondhand stores and buy my gig dresses there because you can find some real beauties that have obviously been consigned by rich ladies who bought them at your boutique and then decided they can't be seen wearing them again!"

Lynda scoffed and said "Yes, you should see some of those old bats who come in and want me to give them the dirty on who's bought what so that they don't show up to the same glitzy affair wearing the same dress as some other old bat. We actually have to keep a ledger so that we don't end up selling the same outfit to two rival society matrons. Otherwise we could end up not only losing a good customer but causing a feud that could take down the whole of the social elite structure!"

"So how are we going to find a way for you to get your foot in the door at a movie studio, Lynda?" Gabby inquired, always thinking ahead and wanting to be of help.

"I don't know, I was thinking maybe they'd come to me. We do have a lot of movie stars who shop at the store. I'm making connections and building relationships with my customers, and trying to work it from that angle."

"Sounds like a good plan. Maybe if Davy ever hits the bigtime, he'll mix with some entertainment types and you'll find a way in that way." Gabby elbowed Lynda in the ribs and winked at her in an exaggerated manner.

Lynda looked at Gabby as if she had lost her mind. "Gabby, you're joking me, right? I think you're perceptive enough to know very well this relationship with Davy's going nowhere for the same reasons why you didn't want to date Micky at first, and in any case, I'm not in it for where he can take me or what he can give me."

Gabby broke into a grin and said "Yeah, I was funnin' you. I know very well a woman of integrity when I meet one. I feel for you Lynda, and I know exactly what you're up against. But I wouldn't lay the lilies on the grave of your relationship with Davy just yet. I'm trying to get Micky to get Davy to shape up and I'm hoping that Davy spending time with you may just do the job. Plus, look at Micky. He was a groupie groper and he seems to have been willing to walk away from that to date me."

"Yes, that's true, but I think Davy's been at it for so long he doesn't know any other way of living. Micky dipped his toe in the pool and you helped him yank it out again. I think Davy's kind of damaged person in that respect. I don't think he knows any other way of living or being. You should give yourself a lot of credit for helping Micky turn it around, but you should also realize that Micky's got an essentially strong core of values that he's just returning to because he met you. He seems like a really good guy. I hope things work out for you two. I think you're right to start with friendship. I think if Davy and I had started there, we might have had a shot, but Davy doesn't operate that way, and I sold myself short. Then he got his draft letter and it was too late for me to pull away. I care about him as a person, and I know he needs someone to stand by him right now. So I'm going to see it through. If by some miracle he has that epiphany and becomes the man I need him to be, I'll be happy, but I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime, I really do think of what I'm doing for Davy as friendship." Then she smiled and giggled and amended her statement: "Well, let's say friendship with benefits."

Gabby chuckled and said "I can dig it. I had a friend like that when I was in high school. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes that's what you need to get you through a tough time in our life. Well I want you to know that whatever happens with you two, the girls and I have your back, Lynda."

"Thanks, Gabby. That means a lot to me." She gave Gabby's arm a little squeeze and looked out to sea, and Gabby wondered what was going through her mind. She also gave some thought to what Lynda said about her and Micky and mulled it for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Peter and Dawn took off on a walk towards a secluded cove Peter knew of which the other guys called "the Nooky Nook." Peter had never availed himself of it and he was very excited to finally have someone special in his life to bring there. Dawn was amused when he told her where he was bringing her, and was proud of him for boldly going where he had never gone before, to paraphrase the popular show Star Trek's tagline. Before long, though, it became apparent that Peter wasn't long on technical know-how. Dawn decided to slow things down and to add plenty of dialogue into the mix. She realized she was also out of her depth. She had never been with a virgin before, and she wasn't just with a virgin, it now occurred to her she was with a blank slate. She needed an assist and she didn't want to scar Peter with an experience that was anything less than totally satisfying and comfortable for both of them. She would have to consult an expert for advice on how to approach the long game, so she stalled for time in the short run.

"Slow down, Peter, hold up. Let's just take this whole thing a step at a time. I'm not in any hurry. Are you?"

Peter came out of his frenzied haze and stopped to take a deep breath and think a moment. "Wow, I hadn't really thought about it. I was just doing what I thought ought to happen. No, I guess I'm really not. In fact, I feel like I'm trying to outrun my own shadow."

"Okay, that makes sense, because that's what it feels like on this end, too. Let's just slow the pace. We've got all the time in the world, Peter. I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to rush anything. I want all of this to be good for both of us. I don't want it to be a should, I want it to be a shall we? You know what I mean? I want it to be a choice we make together, not something we do because it's what's expected or the logical next step. Let's keep our heads and stay conscious about every sensation and every tingle and every caress. It's not a race to the finish line. It's not a rite of passage. It's an emotion and it's a sacred act. It's a gift you give and receive. There's no hurry. Let's wait and inch along and go at the pace that feels right for both of us. I'm not in any hurry, okay?"

Peter looked sublimely relieved and thrilled to have been blessed with a woman who could step inside his mind and be so empathetic. He realized now that he was in the position that most girls traditionally found themselves in, being rushed and mauled by a man, and now had his own awakening as to how hard it must be for chicks to navigate the shoals of sex and love and relationships. They were basically like the prey and the guys were the hunters. He related his thoughts to Dawn and she affirmed that her first sexual experiences had been very much like that, and that although the decision to lose her virginity had been not exactly coerced, it had not been entirely something she felt totally ready for either and it felt rushed.

"Peter, I'd like it if we could keep things simple, like teenagers do. You know about the bases?"

Peter's face went beet red, but he admitted he did know what she was driving at.

"Okay, cool. So you feel like going to second base with me? I think I could handle that today. I'm not sure either one of us is ready for much more than that. What do you say?"

Peter crawled closer to Dawn and aligned their bodies, kissed her earlobe and whispered "Play ball!" He reached behind her neck and deftly untied her bikini top with one hand and she allowed him to pull her top down and caress her skin, which began to form goosebumps. He worshipped her sloping curves with his elongated musician's fingers, then teased her nipples into sharp points until she moaned with ecstasy.

"Is that good?" he ventured.

"Anytime you hear a woman purring like a panther, that's good, Peter."

"Can I lick you? I want to see what you taste like."

"That would be lovely. Let me know if the left boob tastes different than the right one – I've always wondered," she joked.

Peter wasn't actually sure whether she was joking, so he took this as a mission to be accomplished and he sampled her wares. Her skin tasted a bit salty from the ocean air, and her body's sweet scent carried with it a taste that caught at the back of his throat and reminded him of the sugary breakfast cereal he ate every morning. "You taste like Rice Krispies," he murmured between swipes of his tongue. Dawn chuckled and commented "Original and very you."

"I need more data, though." Peter increased his suction and swirled his tongue and began to pull and bite her nipples and he gawked as they began to grow hard and stand erect and turn a darker color. They glowed and it was as if they had little nuclear reactors inside them. He was amazed at the life and power they had within them. He knew they were life-giving for babies and held a power to sustain the future of the planet, but aside from that utile function, he had previously had no idea what else they could do. Now he knew that they had the power to attract and hold him absolutely mesmerized, and that he could spend the rest of the day suckling and worshipping them if Dawn would let him. He felt like they commanded and held his attention, like they almost spoke to him, beckoned to him, communicated something to him. 'Love me, touch me, worship me, pay tribute to me.' And he was committed to honoring those requests as they echoed in his ears and heart.

Dawn noticed that Peter took to this new activity like a duck to water. No hesitation once he had the green light. He asked for what he wanted, she granted his request, she reassured him it was okay, and then left him to it. This she knew was going to work with second base. But she knew that with the more complicated triple and homerun, she and Peter were going to need plenty of batting practice and that she was going to need some extra coaching advice. Fortunately, she had a batting coach she felt she could consult, and she made a mental note to check in with that person ASAP. She was committed to doing things the right way with Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

Dawn showed up to work the next day at Steven's Eden, the friendly neighborhood head shop servicing the West Los Angeles area near her apartment. The store sold an array of drug paraphernalia such as bongs, but that was but a small percentage of its overall inventory. A much larger feature of the store was an eclectic assortment of crafts and pottery, tie dyed clothes, records, ashtrays, incense plus holders to rest the burning sticks upon, and other assorted groovy psychedelia. It was also known on the down low that if you were very friendly with Steven, the owner of the shop, that you could procure certain contraband goods at certain off-the-books hours and locations. Dawn worked as a cashier, salesperson, inventory-keeper and general jack of all trades, particularly because Steven had a tendency to sample his own off-the-books wares and needed a reliable backup to mind the store.

Today, Dawn was relieved to see that Steven was in a relatively sober condition because she wanted to consult him about her situation with Peter. She had been working with Steven for a few years, part-time when she was attending college, and full-time for now while she looked around for a job she really wanted to do that would make a difference in the world. She wasn't without ambition, she was just choosy, and in no hurry to commit or join the rat race. She lived simply and her financial needs were few. She was looking for a life of meaning and substance, and would rather drop out, like Dr. Timothy Leary had advised, until she could tune in to something that was worthy of her efforts. She and Gabby were working together to find the right opportunity and had the same ethos in this regard.

"Steven, good to see you among the living this morning. Can I run something past you and get your take on it?"

Steven smiled somewhat blearily at her and gestured towards the mug in his hand. "Sure, kiddo, want some herbal tea to go with the chat? I've got a groovy new blend I mixed up myself that I'm thinking of carrying in the store if it flies with enough taste testers."

"Yeah, that would be great. Nothing mind-altering in it though, right? One of us has to stay upright to run things around here," Dawn reminded him.

"Nah, none of that. Just things like chamomile, jasmine, fennel, tansy, other good Mother Earth stuff. Don't want to give away the secret recipe."

He poured some water from a kettle into a mug through a tea strainer full of fluffy vegetation, then handed it to her. "Fire away. What's on your mind?"

"Well, I've got myself a unique situation I never thought I'd find myself in, Steven. And it's delicate and not something I can reverse engineer. I need a man's opinion and insight."

Steven stroked his long, scraggly beard and tried to look sagacious and wise, but he mostly just looked bursting with curiosity. "Whoa, babe. Tell me more, I'm all agog."

"So it's like this, Steven. I've started dating this really groovy guy. He's beautiful, really sweet, soulful, a hippie pacifist wild child like me, and we're so alike in almost every respect except one." She paused to clear her throat and gather her wits as to how to frame her next sentence with delicacy for Peter's situation and feelings, but decided that since he'd never know about this discussion and she really did need to get the down and dirty scoop on what to do, she threw delicacy out the window and just laid her cards on the table.

"He's a virgin, Steven. He's never even touched a woman. I mean, he's _tabula rasa_. I introduced him to my girls yesterday. It was his first close encounter he'd had with a woman's chest and it damn near blew his mind. Now how the hell am I supposed to bring him along the rest of the way on that journey without scaring him off or leading him astray? I mean, he's a man but in a way he's like a boy. I don't want to emasculate him or patronize or embarrass him, but he knows literally nothing. I want him to enjoy this and not get freaked out by it, but he's so inept and clueless that I fear if I don't take the wheel he'll get off on the wrong track and it will be awful for both of us and that will spell the end eventually. If he already had experience, I could tell him 'I like it this way' and he'd just be making adjustments to what he already knows, but if I tell him that now he might take it the wrong way, like I'm insulting him or schooling him. But if I don't give him some guidance, he's going to explode and be 30-second Pete and it won't be any fun for me or really him either. So what do I do? How can I help him along and make sure I get out of it what I need? I already told him I'm okay with him being a virgin and I am. I just need to figure out how to help him over the hump, pun intended."

Steve frowned and shook his head, "Here's the thing, Dawn, I think you've got that last bit slightly wrong. You're not just telling him what you need or bossing him around, you're helping make sure you both get what you need. And you're guiding him through the basics of what he doesn't know in a way that few if any men are privileged to be led, unless they've got one of those sick puppy fathers who send them to a prostitute to get instructions. If you can get that across to him, he'll understand. Hell, he'll probably be relieved."

"But how do I do it without coming off as one of those prostitutes or like a schoolmarm?"

"Oh, well, maybe some men might find that sexy." Steve mused and stared off into space for a bit, contemplating the images in his mind.

"Steve! Focus! I'm serious!"

"I _am_ serious. Let's face it. No one wants to get a technical lesson on how to insert tab A into slot B. Make it into a game, a fantasy. Ask him what he fantasizes about women and let him run with it, and just help him along. Try out lots of things and be there to guide him and make it real for him. Make sure you tell him what you're up to. That it's all for play and fun and you're learning how to be together sexually and this is the best way to do it without there being pressure or embarrassment. That way he knows you're not playing games with him or pulling a fast one on him, that you care about him and that you're just trying to make it go easy for him."

"So you mean let him do what's been rattling around in his head all along and just help with the technical side of things?"

"Yeah! I guarantee you he knows exactly what he wants, but he just isn't sure if he's entitled to ask for it. If you tell him he's got a blank check and a safety net, he'll figure it out. He's probably a lot more instinctive and competent than you think. He just needs to get over his nerves and society's preconceived expectations of himself."

"Wow, Steven, that's some pretty sensible advice. Thanks, I'll give it a go."

"Sure thing, kid. Uh, I don't suppose I'm going to get a follow-up report, am I? Doesn't have to be blow-by-blow, but you know, just an overview, ahem."

"No frickin' way, you pervy man! But if I've got that special glow from here on out when I show up for work, you'll know it was some solid wisdom you imparted. Thanks, Steven." She gave him a hug and headed over to a box of candles waiting to be stacked on a shelf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

The girls attended the Saturday gig as usual, then the whole group went to Eat at Ed's. Davy and Lynda were also among those in attendance. This made Gabby feel happy because Lynda and the girls were building a friendship on their own. She knew the chances of their ending up a happy couple were slim, based on the conversation she and Lynda had had that day at the beach. Both she and Lynda regarded Micky as an amateur groupie gatherer in comparison to Davy, and it made Gabby shudder to anticipate how many ways Davy could abuse Lynda's good nature and leave her on the roadside once he had gotten what he wanted or needed from her. She was therefore even more devoted to Lynda, given her own horrific life experience with her previous boyfriend Nick, holding herself in readiness to help Lynda pick up the pieces if and when things fell apart with Davy.

Seeing Davy and Lynda together also gave her just a little more reason to be cautious with Micky, and yet she found herself doing the opposite. She felt her defenses quickly dropping. She had called a truce with Micky only a week ago and decided to be open to the possibility of dating him, but she had known him for a couple of weeks longer than that and even when she first met him and told him to take a hike, she was not unmindful of his charms. He had vowed to turn over a new leaf and to clean up his act, and thinking back on it, she realized that he hadn't gone out with a groupie voluntarily since the night he first approached her. She didn't hold the fiasco with Sandra against him and felt that it was merely an entertaining and just way for him to pay his karmic dues. Upon reflection, his decision to immediately drop his old lifestyle counted for something in her books. It seemed to indicate that underneath that surface slime that repelled her so viscerally because it reminded her of Nick was actually a good guy who had gone astray, like Dawn had opined.

She snuck a peek at Micky, who was sitting next to her in the booth but was speaking with Peter about a glitch they had had with some piece of equipment that they wanted to get fixed. She heard him speaking knowledgeably and seriously about his livelihood, which made him seem like a more steady and mature character than she had given him credit for. He also was a reader and bibliophile, which definitely counted for a lot in her mind. It meant he was intelligent, introspective and curious. He was close to his family, which meant he had values, and now she knew that he had been forced to grow up early owing to the loss of his father, so maybe his going crazy and being immature with the groupies was him living his life backwards because of an adolescence snatched away from him at a crucial time. She realized that she had been very judgmental of his character without knowing him and that she now had many more pieces to the puzzle to assess whether he was worthy of her heart and figure out whether he'd honor it or crush it.

Still, she was very self-conscious that her irrational heart was leaping ahead of her logical brain, and that the defenses she had raised as a reaction to being abused by Nick were quickly dropping away. Yet despite the irrationality of the situation, she felt inclined to follow her heart. She looked at the guys Micky associated with, and whom her friends were all in the process of falling in love with, sitting in the booth around her. They were the best character witnesses of all and they thought the world of him. They weren't brainwashed or sheep, like the people who revered Nick. The Monkees were all highly individual guys who had made their way in the world and come together after establishing their own good characters, and yet they worked as a cohesive unit with Micky as an integral part of it. She was inclined to trust their judgment. In the end, she decided that she should stop being such a hardass and to remember that love isn't logical. If she ever wanted to leave the Nick nightmare behind and find the man who was going to make her happy, she reasoned, she needed to carry with her the lessons she had learned without dragging around with her a bunch of baggage that would prevent her from opening her heart to that new man and new love.

They were all hanging around in the parking lot, not wanting to say goodnight, the couples making plans for their next dates. Micky and Gabby looked at each other a bit awkwardly. Micky had decided that this was not the time or place to ask Gabby for a date. He was not fond of this group dynamic in terms of conducting his one-on-one courtship with Gabby, so he was going to call her later in the week to make plans. Instead, he asked her what she was reading now, and they talked about the latest Agatha Christie murder mystery she was immersed in for fun, and the book about the Vietnam War which she was digesting more slowly. She asked him how he was coming along on _Fahrenheit 451_. He updated her on his progress, told her he was enjoying it, and that he was looking forward to discussing it with her when he was done. As everyone had wrapped up their conversations, he asked her if he could call her this week to see what her plans were and she said yes. He gave her a hug, then said goodnight.

As the girls piled into the car, on their way to dropping Lynda off at her place in Santa Monica, Dawn gave a short whistle and crowed "Whoa, Gabby, looks like you and Micky have really loosened the shackles and gone to town. A hug! That's major progress!"

"Oh shut it, Dawn!" Gabby was embarrassed and frustrated at having gotten caught doing a 180 on her position towards dating Micky. She didn't want to be seen as a hypocrite but at the same time she didn't want to be marked out as a frigid, irredeemably damaged woman. She couldn't make up her mind whether it was better or worse to be letting her guard down and letting Micky into her heart. She was a proud woman of principle, but she was also a romantic, and she didn't want to be alone all her life. "We've decided we'll be friends and see where things go. We're taking things slow. I think given both our recent backgrounds, that that seems like the best way to approach things."

Wendy chipped in with her sports bookie voice: "What do we think the over/under is on when they declare their love for each other, sleep with each other, and either shack up together or get married? I'm taking prop. bets on all of those contingencies right now, gals, and I'm measuring it in days, not weeks!"

Dawn said "Well, I'm in no position to cast the first stone. I'm crazy about Peter and I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with him myself."

Wendy chipped in "Yeah, I'm pretty wild about Michael, too."

Dawn said "Lynda, I hope this isn't making you feel uncomfortable. I know you feel ambivalent about your situation with Davy."

Lynda shrugged her shoulders and laughed. "Ladies, I feel like right now, I'm not really dating Davy, I'm giving service to the country. I'm saving Davy from almost certain death in Vietnam, and I'm saving our military from having to invest its resources in a pipsqueak who isn't going to be of any use to them, unless they put him to work entertaining the troops, in which case, he'd be brilliant." They all got a good laugh out of Lynda's humorous yet stoic estimation of her situation.

"I'm realistic about Davy's past dating history, his level of immaturity and frankly, his reluctance to give up the way of life he was living," Lynda summed up her lack of confidence in a future with Davy. "I think we'll probably end up as good friends after all is said and done, and I'm surprisingly dispassionate about it all. I know my own worth and I'm sure I'll meet someone else who values me. But for now, I don't want to leave Davy. He needs me and I enjoy being with him, so we both get something out of it. But I doubt it's true love for either of us. I don't think I could love a man who doesn't love me, and I'm pretty sure the only person Davy loves is Davy. So don't worry about my heart being broken, because my heart isn't really involved in the situation all that much, other than the part of my heart that feels for Davy as a friend and someone who I don't want to see die in an unjust war."

Gabby felt moved to speak. "I've worked very hard to do my part to fight against this war, Lynda, but I have to give you credit. You are doing your bit quietly and making as much of a difference, or even more. I really respect you. I also have to say that given how I felt about Micky when I met him and how I ran a mile away from him when I saw the debauched life he was living, I used to think I couldn't possibly put aside my judgment about him as a person to see past it, but I did and I'm glad I was willing to hang in there. I think it's the same with Davy. I think there's a lot more underneath the surface than we realize, and if anyone is going to excavate it, it's going to be you. Micky told me that he's seen a big change in Davy since he started spending time with you, so don't underestimate yourself or the relationship you're building with him. But yeah, I'm with you. Be true to yourself and don't get too hung up on what might happen with him. If things go south with him, we'll just keep gigging with you and we'll find you someone else who's a great guy. But no matter what, like we said before, you're one of us now and I hope you'll keep hanging out with us."

Lynda hugged Gabby and thanked her and the rest of the gals, who were nodding their heads in affirmation. Gabby added "And don't forget, I told you I asked Micky to try to get Davy to shape up, so you've got someone on the inside working him over, for what it's worth."

Wendy said "A couple of weeks ago, you'd have said that's like the fox guarding the henhouse, Gabby. You must really be crazy about Micky. I'm revising my over/under timeframe and taking bets in hourly increments for those who want to get that granular. At this rate, you're going to be swapping spit by tomorrow and booking the wedding venue by Tuesday!"

"Get bent, Wendy," Gabby snarked and stuck her tongue out at her friend, who was grinning at her in the rearview mirror as she drove them to Lynda's apartment. The girls all laughed and spent the rest of the ride chattering about the guys they were smitten with and exclaiming at how fast their fortunes had turned, marveling at how love can sneak up on you when you least expect it, and realizing how trying to resist it is usually futile. Gabby had a lot to think about, and mostly just listened and reflected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

Micky called Gabby Monday before work to find out if he could have his raincheck dinner that night.

"Micky, thank goodness you called! I just got a frantic call from someone at the bookstore and we've got an emergency situation with the softball team. There's been a game scheduled for tonight because the field opened up owing to a cancellation by another group, and our best hitter can't make it. I personally suspect sabotage. How would you like to become a Simpsons employee and join the team tonight? We're two points behind in the standings with only a few more games in the season and the assholes at Crownenshield's are giving our team holy hell because our team captain is a girl, meaning me. I wanna wipe the floor with their sorry asses."

"Yeah, I'd love to support the cause. I'm not too shabby a hitter myself. Do I need cleats or are tennies cool?"

"Whoa, you take your softball seriously! I like it!"

"Hey, I'm a man of substance, Gabby, not just a pretty face!"

"Touché, Dolenz. Nah, you don't have to have cleats. We're pretty amateur. But bring your own glove and if there's a bat you prefer to use, bring that, too. Metal bats are allowed, by the way, so that's a bonus. Only problem is, you have to really be an employee to play on the team, no foolin' or shenanigans. Can you come by and work a few hours today?"

Micky gulped and tried to think back to when, if ever, he had worked a job that didn't involve busking for pennies with his musical talent. "Okay, if you're really serious about keeping things on the up and up. When do you need me to show up?"

"Right away. This morning, as soon as you can get over to the store. I'll get your paperwork filled out and stuff. Bring a driver's license and social security card if you have one."

"Right. Okay, for you, I'll join the respectable working world. But only for you, Gabby."

"Thanks, you're a peach. Oh, shit, how will you get here? Do you have wheels? I know y'all have the Monkeemobile, but don't you share it?"

"Yeah, but once we got our contract at Cornwall's and saved up a bit, we were able to buy a shit kicker used backup car for anyone to use who needed it. I do have a motorcycle I'm restoring, but it's not quite done yet, and then I'll have that as well. So don't sweat it. I'll be there soon."

"Thanks, Micky. I really appreciate it. And who knows, you may even like it. See you soon."

Micky arrived at the bookstore around eleven a.m. and Gabby hustled him to the back offices to have him fill out an employment application and W-4 tax form. She asked him if he had a preference as to which department he wanted to work in and he asked to work in fiction with Robert. She led him over to Robert, who greeted him like a long lost buddy and fellow traveler. She left the two to reminisce and get Micky oriented with the rest of the fiction sections besides sci-fi, including literature, mystery, and the legendary romance section (without a mathematically catalogued orgasmic filing system).

Lunchtime rolled around and Gabby stopped by the fiction section to find Micky stacking hardcover books in an elaborate, tessellated tower display. "What in the world are you doing, Micky?"

"I thought this would catch customers' eyes better than just stacking them up all boring in a lump like you guys had them. I'm right, aren't I?" His eyes gleamed with self-satisfied assurance and pride.

"No doubt! I love it! You've got a real talent for doing things with your hands, Micky!"

"You have _no idea_ , Gabby." He held her gaze for a moment with what he hoped was a smoldering and seductive look, then broke up into a goofy grin and they both laughed. He was relieved that his former persona as a player and sex fiend was behind them and they could joke about it now.

"Anyway, I came by to see if you're ready to take a lunch break. I know you probably didn't have time to bring anything with you, so let's go grab a bite. It won't be any big whoop. We only have 45 minutes."

"Lead on!" he agreed. They strolled past the cashiers' tills and out the door, Gabby alerting the staff that she was on break now and would be back by 1:00 p.m.

After settling down at the counter of a deli and placing their orders, they looked at each other and suddenly, silence reigned. Micky was contemplating Gabby thoughtfully and she suddenly felt self-conscious. He offered an insight into his thoughts: "I just realized this is the first time I've been alone with you and I can talk to you about whatever I want, ask you whatever I want, and yet I can't think of what to say."

Gabby blushed and agreed "I was just realizing the same thing. It's weird. We're such a package deal. It's you and the Monkees and me and my girl posse. Now that you have me to yourself, what are you going to do with me?" she asked with purposeful double entendre.

"How about if we swap questions on the same topic and compare life experiences?"

"Okay, that sounds good."

Micky went first. "So you went to college. Tell me something about that and then I'll tell you my story."

"Wow, I didn't know you went to college. I'm much more interested in hearing about you. I'll make mine quick. I went to UC Berkeley, where I was a double major in political science and English Literature. I graduated with _magna cum laude_ honors. I was very involved with student politics, and was one of the leaders of an organization that organized against the Vietnam War. I think a bunch of the people I worked with in that effort are going to be tomorrow's leaders and political office holders, and I think maybe I want to be one of them. So that's me. Now you."

"So believe it or not, I also went to college, or at least I started it. I really love making things, building things, and a buddy of mine who shares that passion suggested that we enroll in an architectural program together and maybe someday start a business, so we did. I went to Los Angeles Valley College for a couple of years and studied drafting and architecture. I also took science classes because that's my other passion. Then I got more serious about pursuing my music career and I had to make a choice and music won out. So school's on hold for me for now, but I don't rule out going back, particularly to study science. I'm really interested in physics and the hard sciences. Part of me hopes we make it big in music so that I'll have the dough and the time to go back to school, you know?"

"You weren't kidding when you said you were a man of substance! I'm glad to know that there's a lot going on underneath that mop of curls. That's sexy as all get out, Micky," Gabby smiled up at him.

"Really?" Micky looked stunned and not altogether sure she wasn't just pulling his leg, but pleased all the same.

"Yeah, you know, women dig a guy with a lot on the ball intellectually, or at least I do. And you put that together with all your other fine qualities and you're quite the catch. I better watch out for all those chicks on the cash registers at the front swarming you when we walk back into the store. I already caught a few of them eying you on our way out."

"Yeah?" Micky blushed and fidgeted, still wondering if Gabby was just making light of his previous approach to dating or still had a beef with it. "Oh, well, uhm, I'm not interested in them, Gabby. I've already got my eye on one woman who's really special and I'm hoping she'll give me a shot at wooing her." He batted his eyes at her dramatically.

"Keep being my friend and knight in shining armor on the softball field, you're doing fine," she reassured him, blushing right back.

The day flew by and it was time to leave for the baseball field at UCLA. Micky followed Gabby in his car to the field, giving a lift to a few employees who didn't have wheels, and getting to know his new teammates. A couple were giggly cashier girls who, as Gabby predicted, had not failed to notice Micky's many charms.

When he reached the field, Gabby introduced Micky to the rest of his teammates. One of them particularly intrigued him. "Dan, this is Micky Dolenz. He's new to our fiction department. Dan works in the magazine section."

Micky surmised that this was probably none other than "Dazzling Dan," whom the spaced out Dawn had dished the dirt on at the Dodgers game, the one she said Gabby had tried unsuccessfully to hook up with. Micky gave Dan the once-over twice and detected nothing dazzling about him, but then, he told himself, there was no accounting for taste. He did agree with one thing though, the guy was definitely vanilla. Micky shook his hand and gave him the standard "Nice ta meetcha."

The game got underway, with Gabby claiming her place at second base. Taking no chances of being usurped, she walked out to the field with a bat in her hand, just in case any dude challenged her right to stand there. Then when the inning was about to start, she said "Ooops, what was I thinking, we don't need a bat out here. Let me throw this over to the sideline," and she hurled it with force and precision so that it landed perfectly aligned with the first baseline.

Micky marveled at not only Gabby's grace and grit, but also the crap she had to put up with just to claim and stand her ground. He was out in centerfield, enjoying the view of her backside as she bent down to anticipate a ground ball coming her way, only a tiny bit ashamed at his recidivism into chauvinist pig territory. But hey, he didn't claim he was going to become a monk, just a more respectful admirer. He'd keep his hands and fantasies to himself, but he was still entitled to have the fantasies, he reasoned.

Meanwhile, it hadn't escaped Gabby's notice that Micky looked super hot in his cutoff jeans shorts and t-shirt. Then when he removed his t-shirt because he was getting overheated, she practically had to fan herself and reach for the smelling salts. He had long legs and arms, thin but ropy with lean muscles. His waist was narrow and tapered down from broad shoulders, and his torso had just enough definition to show that he kept himself in shape, probably from the long hours of drumming he did. But the heart-stopper was that he had the cutest little pink nipples she had ever seen in her whole life. He was long and tall and golden and smooth and just a bit hairy, and Gabby liked very much what she saw. She felt a tingle between her thighs and a twitch there that she hadn't felt in months. It felt like wildfire and desire and healing. 

Simpsons prevailed over Crownenshield's easily, with both Micky and Gabby contributing to the box score as well as making defensive plays. The team was grateful to Micky for joining just in time to help save the day, and they expressed their gratitude and welcomed him to the fold, assuming he was now a part of the staff. Neither Gabby nor he had discussed what the future held in that regard, so he just thanked them and stayed mum on that score.

Gabby now approached Micky and asked him for the date she had wanted to have with Dazzling Dan before he shut her down. "Micky, do you want to hit a bar called the Red Hat with some of us? They make great drinks. I love their mudslides. They're like chocolate milkshakes, but with booze."

"That sounds groovy. Who else is coming?"

Just at that moment, Dazzling Dan stepped up and said, "I'll join you."

Gabby could not believe what she was hearing. She was bewildered and also offended. Dan was a day late and a dollar short if he thought he was going to horn in on her social life at this point! And what had changed his mind anyhow? Just because some other guy was showing her some attention now, his male ego got him riled up and competitive? She felt disgusted and decided to have some harmless revenge.

"Oh, Dan, so now you're willing to go out for a drink with me? I'm honored. Why don't you ride with Micky? He's got room in his car." She winked at Micky, silently asking him to play along. He comprehended the dynamic and turned to Dan, clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Yeah, you ride shotgun with me, partner! I want to hear all about you. Have you got a girlfriend on the team? Man, you've got a dazzling smile, you MUST have a girlfriend!"

The team smooshed a couple of tables together and ordered pitchers of beer and various other libations. Micky and Gabby split a pitcher of mudslides with the now unshakeable Dan. He was like Velcro, glued to Gabby's side. So Micky put his arm around her shoulder and whispered to her "This okay with you?" and she nodded yes.

Everyone wanted to know more about Micky, so he shared some details about his life as a Monkee and invited them to that week's first gig at Cornwall's. The cashier girls were shooting Gabby daggers of jealousy as they took note of Micky's proprietary arm hold he had over her personal space. She knew that the gossip would be flying around the store tomorrow and that she would now be _persona non grata_ among the female employees with no sense of sisterhood or maturity. Fortunately, she didn't rely on her place of employment as the font of her social life.

As Micky chatted with folks, Dan leaned in to Gabby and tried to engage her quietly in a _tête-à-tête_ about any topic he thought might interest her. It felt strange to her for the shoe to be on the other foot. She had tried so hard to elicit just that sort of reaction from him for weeks before he finally shut her down definitively. She wasn't impolite and she didn't actually mind speaking with Dan. She figured a friendship with him was still worth having, but she was disappointed in him with his caveman attitude and doubted they'd ever be true friends. Once again, she mourned the divide that existed between genders because of learned behaviors (or misbehaviors) handed down from generation to generation, and vowed she would be part of the generational change to turn the dynamic in another direction so that the girls who succeeded her had an easier go of it than she did.

It was starting to get late and Micky now turned to Gabby and said "Babe, aren't you tired out? Want me to take you home and massage your aching muscles?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Great game everybody! Let's keep it up and kick Crownenshield's ass and win this tournament! See you tomorrow."

As they walked towards their cars, Micky slid his arm off Gabby's shoulder. She suddenly felt bereft at its absence. She hadn't realized how much she had been enjoying that contact with Micky, not just the physical closeness, but the bond of one friend doing another friend a favor and showing them unconditional support.

"Thanks, Micky. You were a good sport in there. I'd have called him out, but it's so trivial that it wasn't worth humiliating him over it, and I do have to work with him still."

"Hey, no problem. So do I."

Gabby stopped walking and turned to face Micky with a stunned look on her face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you've hired me to work at Simpsons and now Dan's my coworker. So I gotta help keep the peace, right? I don't want to be the least popular employee before I collect my first paycheck!"

"You mean you're going to come back and work again?"

"Sure, why not? I enjoyed it, and you still need a stud for your softball team, right?"

"True, true."

"Then I'm in. Just don't schedule me for more than three days a week, four hours per shift, or the guys will kill me. We practice five days a week. You think you can fit my hours in around my practice schedule? I'll ask them to be flexible, too."

"Yeah, sure, no sweat." Gabby was still stunned and in a state of shock.

"I've got one more condition. I only want to work when you're on duty, so you might have to change your schedule. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's more than okay." She reached out and hugged him.

Micky took Gabby's keys from her hands, opened her car door for her and handed her in, then passed her the keys. He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek and said "G'night. Give me a call when you get my schedule figured out."

"I will. Good night, Micky. Thanks. This was fun."

"We're gonna have a lot of fun, I promise," he grinned and headed over to his old banger car, whistling "I'm a Believer."


	12. Chapter 12

Micky arrived home at the Pad to find Mike lolling on the couch in a relatively blissed out, spaced out condition, not very Mike-like, so Micky's radar was up immediately. 

"What's up, Mike? You have a good night?"

"What, huh? Oh, the best. Yeah, I was over at Wendy's. She had the place to herself because Gabby had a softball game."

"Yeah, I know, I was there. I got to play centerfield. She called me this morning in a panic because their best player couldn't make it. So what did you and Wendy get up to?"

"What, huh? Well, we were playin' poker and she decided to make it strip poker. Now you'd think that a guy like me with my lineage and accent, bein' from Texas born and bred, wouldn't get behind the eight ball with a game called Texas Hold 'Em! But I never played it before and she had me down to mah boxers before she had taken more than her socks off! Dayum, that girl is a cardsharp! Anyhow, I had to even the score, so we started playin' show and tell and well, you know, things kind of started gettin' away from us and ..."

Micky couldn't believe his good fortune, and thanked Wendy in absentia for the spell she had cast over his friend. He could tell by the look on Mike's face that he was only half in Malibu and the rest of his mind was back in West L.A. with Wendy, not to mention his heart and various other body parts. He decided to take advantage of this unusual good mood to break the news of the commitment he had made to working at Simpsons.

"Hey, Mike, I know it's gonna bug you but I told Gabby I'd join the softball team for the rest of their season. It's just a few weeks, and I only have to work at the store a few hours per week. I told her I'd need to work around my practice schedule. I hope that's gonna be okay with you guys. She really needs me, and Mike, I really want to be there for her. I really dig her."

"What, huh? Oh, sure. No sweat."

"So where's Peter?"

"What, huh? Wait a minute. He said something about playing baseball, and Dawn came over so I kind of assumed they'd be going to Gabby's game, but they went into his room ages ago and haven't come back out, so I don't know what the story is."

Just at this moment, Dawn and Peter emerged from the downstairs bedroom. If Micky thought Mike had a blissed out expression on _his_ face, he needed to revise his estimation. Peter had him beat by a mile. Peter looked like he was going to float up to the second floor without the aid of the tornado staircase. His hair was mussed and he had a huge grin on his face. Dawn had a look on her face like a proud momma who had just seen her boy graduate from high school.

Micky couldn't govern his curiosity, even though he had an inkling about what was behind those grins. "Hey, Pete, Dawn. Mike said you guys were supposed to come to the softball game but you missed it. I was there and got a single and double. Isn't that great?"

Pete focused his gaze on Micky and showed him all his teeth. "Oh yeah, well I hit a homerun!"

Dawn busted up with laughter and bent over double. She threw her arms around Pete and said "I'm so proud of you, my little slugger!" 

Micky looked at Mike, who still had a glassy, semi-conscious look on his face and asked "Do you know what's going on here?"

Mike said "What, huh? Oh, no, not really. But if Pete's happy, then I'm happy. I want the whole world to be happy. As happy as I am. Yep, happy. Happy, happy, happy. You need to get happy, Micky. What can we do to get you happy, Mick? You neeeeeeeed to get happy."

"Just don't hassle me about working at Simpsons and that will make me happy, Mike, thanks."

"Okeedokeeeey, Mick."

"So Pete's here and you're here. That leaves Davy. Where's Davy?"

"What, huh? Oh, Lynda's got him on the dancing diet. She's taking him out dancing every night to get his mind off the rumble in his tummy, and to help him burn off a few more calories. Plus I think she wants to spend more time with him. She's a smart chick. She's got strategy. She's on the ball. Yep. You need to get yourself a smart woman, Mick."

"I'm working on it, Mike."

"Okeedokeeeey, Mick."

Micky rolled his eyes and assumed that it was going to be fruitless to attempt anything resembling rational conversation with Mike at this point. Having no more favors to extract from him and having had a very long day, he decided to hit the hay.

* * *

Mike laid in bed, mulling over the night's events, head awhirl and still sort of unable to believe his good fortune at finding a kindred soul with a double X chromosome profile. He had indeed gone over to Wendy's at her invitation, with the enticement of the promise of an empty apartment for once. The girls didn't often get much privacy, but they were playing musical chairs tonight. Gabby was going to be at the softball field and Dawn was out with Peter because Davy was out with Lynda and Peter was hoping to get Dawn alone in his bedroom. Micky was MIA, but that didn't matter since he was on probation with Gabby for having too many girls in his past and was in no position to complain if Pete brought a girl home, and he wouldn't be coming over to the apartment since Gabby wouldn't be there. So there were a few hours of rare, blissful privacy to be had and she and Mike were anxious to make the most of them.

Wendy had dinner and wine ready for them, spaghetti and meatballs, plus salad and bread. She couldn't cook so she just picked up takeout from the Italian restaurant down the street. After dinner, over which they swapped life stories and got to know each other better without all the distractions that being part of a large group generally presented, they decided to get a bit frisky and play strip poker. Wendy was a still a bit self-conscious and didn't feel all that secure about just diving in with Mike into a full on makeout session when it was just one-on-one. Unfortunately for Mike, he sucked at poker and he ended up wearing nothing but his checkered boxers very quickly, with Wendy having removed only two socks and her t-shirt, under which she was wearing a camisole.

Wendy was enjoying the view, but Mike, who fortunately by now was pretty liquored up with red wine, was still a bit uncomfortable with the inequity. They fell back to an old subject they had covered before, which was their general insecurity about themselves, and in particular their bodies. 

"Do you like what you see, Wendy? I'm feelin' a bit worried you don't."

"Nooooo, Mike, you're beeeeoooootiful!!!!" Wendy reassured him tipsily.

"Tell me what you see. What I see is a guy who's too pale, too skinny and too long."

They were sitting on the floor with the coffee table between them. Wendy pushed the coffee table aside, moved over to him and snuggled up to him.

"I see skin like alabaster or marble." Then she kissed his neck. 

"I see lean muscles with plenty of definition." Then she kissed his chest down to his abdomen and licked his belly button.

"I see long, graceful limbs." Then she kissed him from shoulder to fingertips.

"I see a beautiful man who drives me wild every time I look at him." Then she made her way back up and kissed him all over his face and then deeply on the mouth.

Mike sighed and gave a strangled moan and pulled back to look her in the eye. He wanted to make sure she was being straight with him. She was.

"Okay, now you tell me," he challenged. "What do you think I'm gonna see when you take off your clothes. Then if you're ready to, take 'em off and I'll tell you what I see."

Wendy looked a bit apprehensive, but she knew that if she was ever going to have a more favorable reception, it would be in heaven when she met an angel, so she took a big swig of red wine and started to get undressed. She itemized her flaws as she removed each piece of clothing.

She took off her shirt and said "My boobs are too small."

Mike said "Nope, they're perky and cute." He kissed each one with an affectionate smack and gave an enticing lick. "What's next?"

She removed her pants. "I've got thunder thighs."

Mike looked her over and gave a feel. "Nah, they're shapely and real sexy. I like how mah hands glide over them. Give me your hands. Have a feel." He took her hands in his and he moved both their hands over her thighs together. "Now don't that feel like the most perfect place on Earth just at this moment, Wendy?"

"If you say so, Mike, then I'll have to trust you."

"I say so, so believe me. Now what else?"

"My stomach is too round and it sticks out." Wendy looked down and frowned. "Now you can't talk me out of that one."

Mike ran his hands over her tummy, which definitely did stick out. "Don't your backside stick out, too? Well that balances out the equation. Ya can't have one without t'other, as my Uncle Cletus says. A woman doesn't look natural without both. Don't let any guy tell you otherwise. I like your womanliness, Wendy. All of it. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't. If you can stand me bein' tall and skinny, then I reckon I can stand you bein' short and round. Isn't that funny? We're like a fairy tale pair or somethin'. We're both insecure about bein' mirror images of each other. So what's the point? We're both nekkid now. Maybe love really _is_ blind, but I like what I see. Do you?"

"Yeah, I really do. I think you're gorgeous."

"I think you're beautiful. I think you're the best thing in my life other than the band. I think I'm incredibly lucky to have found you, and I'm not lettin' you go and I'm not lettin' anything come between us. I want all of you, every part of you, ya hear?"

"Yeah, I've got good hearing, even when I'm nekkid." She smiled brilliantly now, shaking off her reserve.

"So now what do you want to do?" Mike asked with a big grin on his face.

"Hmmm, I don't know? Do you want to see what my bedroom looks like? There's a lovely view of the ceiling."


	13. Chapter 13

Gabby called Micky to let him know he'd be working Monday, Wednesday and Thursday from ten to two p.m. each week, if it was okay with the band. He ran it by the fellas and they all agreed that for the good of Micky's love life, and for the sake of symmetry, since the rest of them had girlfriends at the moment, it would be best to go along with the scheme. Plus, they liked Gabby and felt that there was a principle to uphold in supporting her quest to shove her dainty shoe up the backsides of the guys on the Crownenshield's softball team who had mocked and scorned her. In fact, they all committed to attending her games and cheering her on as a show of further support. The rubbernecking value of watching the mating game between her and Micky was just an added enticement.

The other factor at play was that Davy's energy level was plummeting, and practice sessions weren't going well. Davy's daily caloric intake was down to a bare minimum and he was putting in extra time running and swimming, not to mention his nightly dance club forays with Lynda. With that grueling regimen, he could barely keep up with his daily activities, never mind putting in several hours of practice banging a tambourine, shaking maracas and singing. The Monkees decided that Davy's participation at rehearsals would be kept to a bare minimum and that they could afford to skate along for a couple more weeks without any massive repercussions to their status at Cornwall's. Practices would be held late in the afternoon before dinner so that Davy had something to look forward to before his next workout, and no more than three times a week.

Micky was pleased with this arrangement, as it gave him more time to devote to wooing Gabby, and he intended to make the most of it. The guys had a practice day on Tuesday, and Micky turned up for work on Wednesday. He asked Gabby if he could take her to a movie on Wednesday night. She gave a skeptical look at him, remembering the fiasco with Fred and the beach blanket bimbo bomb he insisted they see. She got even more concerned when Micky mentioned that his movie choice was an old science fiction flick that was at an art house revival filmfest.

"Micky, no offense, but Fred was way off on my taste in movies and tried to foist something ridiculous on me and I don't want you to get into the same fix. Would you like to rethink that choice?"

"Nope, trust me, Gabby. I've given this a lot of thought. I know you're going to dig it. Beside which, isn't forming a friendship about give and take?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought about Fred, but with him it was usually about him telling me what I wanted and I got fed up with it. But you're absolutely right. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. I've got to get over the past and stay open. Okay, what's the movie called?"

"It's called _The Day The Earth Stood Still_. If you don't like it, we can leave, no questions asked. And we can also go see another movie of your choice, regardless. I'd like to see something you dig and broaden my horizons. What movie did you want to see that Fred didn't want to take you to?"

"I wanted to go see _The Taming of the Shrew_."

"Shakespeare, right? Okay, it's a deal. We'll go see that next. Assuming you're still speaking to me after tonight." Micky gave her a charming smile, which she couldn't resist. She bumped her shoulder with him and made her way towards the information desk.

Micky finished his shift at two p.m. and stopped by to check in with Gabby to make plans to meet up later. "What are you going to do with yourself until it's time to go to the movie, Micky?"

"Oh, I don't know, I guess I could walk around Westwood."

"No, don't do that, it's a drag. Why don't you take my keys and go grab a nap or read a book at my apartment?"

"You sure?" Micky was touched at her trust and familiarity at loaning him her home.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm not sure who or what you'll find there. You may want to grab some food for lunch and bring it with you. We don't tend to keep much in the fridge. I'm not clear on what Dawn and Wendy's hours are today either, so you may or may not be alone. Feel free to hang out in my room if you want to take a nap and you don't have the place to yourself. I'll be home by 5:30. We can get dinner before the movie."

"Thanks, Gabby. You're the best." Micky leaned across the desk, accepted her house keys, and kissed her on the cheek.

Gabby glowed with a warm feeling in her heart and a fluttery feeling in her belly. She noticed Micky's calf muscles ripple as he walked away. He was wearing those lethal cutoff jeans shorts again.

Gabby arrived home and started poking around looking for Micky. She noticed the door to her bedroom closed and quietly opened it up. The light was off and she heard the sound of a slight whiffling snore and her heart contracted as she gazed upon his sleeping form. He was curled up on her bed looking like a very small boy down for a nap. His hair was mussed, his mouth was slack and slightly open, and his face was in a state of perfect peace. If he had had his thumb in his mouth, it would be the only way he could have looked more adorable.

She sat down on the bed and ran her hand through his wild, curly locks and he slowly woke up without opening his eyes right away, enjoying the sensation of being petted and stroked.

"Mmmmm, that's nice."

"Did you have a good sleep, Micky?"

"Sort of, I was reading my book and I guess I dozed off."

"What were you reading?"

He looked around for the book and held it up. "I'm reading the book for our book club so we can talk about it – remember? _Fahrenheit 451_. It's frightening. I hope there's something at the end that brings some positivity. It was kind of giving me some freaky dreams just now. I was dreaming of fire. Burning books."

"Hang in there with it. You'll get there. I brought some dinner home. You hungry?"

Micky sat up and gave a cat stretch that made Gabby's facial muscles twitch a bit as she tried not to show a reaction, but mentally she was thinking 'hubba hubba.'

"Yeah, I'm starved again. I can always eat. What's for dinner?"

"Pizza, nothing fancy. When's the movie?"

"Seven thirty. So we've got time to eat and chat and get there."

They had their pizza and as Wendy and Mike had the night before, enjoyed some get-to-know-you type conversation that had been in short supply because they were usually part of a group. They discussed their childhoods, their families and filled each other in on their basic biographies up until that point in their lives.

The movie, as Micky predicted, made a huge impression on Gabby. On the surface, it was your standard, somewhat cheesy science fiction flick, complete with flying saucer, space alien with shiny suit, an imposing, impassive robot with the power to strike men down, and the standard "Take me to your leader" request. But very quickly a political subtext emerged. These interplanetary visitors were ambassadors of a universal quest for peace and had purposefully visited the planet Earth with a message for all the world's leaders to convey the key to accomplishing that mission. Unfortunately, because of the seeds of discord sewn by the flaws of man and humanity, the political situation ruled out the ability to convene all the leaders at once and the message could not be delivered. The planet Earth thus remained in a stalemate state of war with itself and its alien visitors.

Misunderstandings inevitably ensued, a trigger happy soldier killed an alien and the interplanetary messenger soon was on the run. His attempt to make contact with sympathetic humans was only partially successful and they ended up being betrayed by other hostile, bigoted humans who distrusted the concept of interplanetary peace and once again, fatal consequences resulted. A final ultimatum was issued: join the cause for intergalactic peace or be obliterated. The movie ended on an ambiguous note with no resolution, unlike the vast majority of Hollywood fairytales, giving a gritty and realistic twist to the parable and making it a prescient allegory for the times in which Micky and Gabby found themselves now living, in the midst of the Vietnam War, with the life of their dear friend literally hanging in the balance.

As they left the theater, Gabby was silent and contemplative. Micky knew what thoughts must be passing through her mind, but he gave her some space to process them. They drove back to her place in relative silence. She invited him in and they were glad to see that her place was still roommate-free.

They sat down on the couch. Gabby didn't wait for Micky to ask what she thought of the movie. She fixed him with a penetrating look and said "You really do get me Micky, don't you?"

"I think so, yeah. Or I'm figuring you out, or you're leaving me a trail of breadcrumbs to follow or something. Or Dawn gave me some good intel at the Dodgers game and I'm making the most of it. Sometimes that's what a fella needs. Good info and a good kick in the seat of the pants. So I take it you liked the movie?"

"Yes, I liked it. It spoke to me. It said the things I've been screaming from bullhorns at rallies for the last few years. But it was so clever, so artful in the way it conveyed the message. Hollywood's good at that. Like when they passed the Production Code in the late 1930s and they had to stop showing sex overtly in the movies, they had to start getting more clever and creative about implying it. I think that made movies even better. They had to work harder to get their point across, and it made for some fantastic art. Those are some great movies from that era, by the way, I'd love you to see. Norma Shearer is the queen of sex on screen that doesn't actually happen. You should see her sizzle in _The Divorcee._ "

"Sounds enticing. I'm glad you liked the movie. I appreciate you letting me share something that means a lot to me. Not all the science fiction movies I like are that meaningful. I hope you'll be willing to go see the more cheesy or scary ones with me, but I wanted you to see that some of them can make you think, too. In fact, most of them do on some level. And I wanted to do right by you, Gabby, to show you I want to meet you halfway."

"I sensed that, Micky. And I appreciate it."

Now they had moved very close to each other, and Micky was looking down at her, and he ran his hand over her cheek and traced the line of her hair as he cupped her face. "You know, I've always thought this hairstyle makes you look like Louise Brooks, you know, the movie star?"

"Yeah, that's kind of the look I was going for actually. She was naughty and nice and a breakout style maker. Once again, you get me."

" _Do_ I get you, Gabby? Have I earned you a little bit?"

"Yeah, you have, Micky. You've worked at it. I've noticed."

Micky moved his other hand up to her cheek, and stroked both of them now, steadied her face, leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. It was not much more than a whisper kiss – there for a second and then gone again. Then he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her and she hugged him back.

"I should go. I've got to be back here tomorrow for work! Man, it's weird being part of the working world."

"It suits you, though, Micky, and everyone at the store really likes having you around, particularly me." She gave him a wink and a smile. "Of course it hasn't done a thing for my popularity with some of the female staff. That place is a gossip mill and you've broken a lot of hearts, staking your claim on me. I'm already getting frozen out by some of the more shallow girls who are jealous."

"Really? That's pathetic and sad."

"Wow, now the old Micky I met that first night at the diner would have preened his peacock feathers and asked which ones they were and probably wanted to get their phone numbers."

Micky looked at her with a serious, determined, sober expression: "Gabby, that Micky is gone. He probably really never existed. He was a fever dream and he deserves to be left in Darwin's dustbin. Can we agree on that? I need to hear it from you that I've lived that down. I can't be dragging my past around with me if we're going to move forward, any more than you can."

"That's fair and you're right. Let's call it a clean slate for both of us. I think we're both different people now. We're at a different place in our lives and our relationship with each other, and we see the real versions of ourselves with each other. With you, I'm a fascinating woman you desire, and with me, you're a fascinating man whom I desire, and that's that. All that extra baggage from the past can just stay buried. We'll leave it behind. But not the lessons we've learned from it. That goes with us forward towards the future. Does that sound right?"

"Yeah, that sounds right. I can deal with that. Can I kiss you again?"

"I'd love that."

This time Micky didn't hold back, and neither did Gabby. It was a smoldering kiss, but it stayed just a kiss. They both knew that they still needed to take things slow. That was still part of the deal. This relationship was going to take time to develop despite Gabby's proclamation about buried baggage. Micky damn well knew that was the case despite Gabby's wish to move past it all, and he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He didn't even _think_ of asking if he could stay over, even though he'd just be making the trek right back to town the next morning.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well."

"'Night, Micky."

As Micky turned to leave, he gave Gabby another one more look, then opened the door and walked out. She knew that in the past, with any other guy, she'd have just asked him to stay the night. For one thing, logistically it would have made more sense. Why have Micky drive all the way back to Malibu, only to turn right back around the next morning to drive back to her neighborhood to work another shift at the bookstore? But she knew that a kiss was a kiss and that staying the night meant something else, or that at least it ought to. At least with this special man, she wanted it to. So she let him say good night and leave. She appreciated the fact that he was willing to walk out that door, not even suggest that he stay. He had a sense of propriety, of boundaries, of doing things in the right way. He had patience and was willing to play this out and build on the anticipation until it all felt right and all resistance and uneasiness on her side crumbled. Smart man, she reflected. Smart and respectful and lovely and very unlike her first impression, thank God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	14. Chapter 14

Thursday was going to be a practice day, so Micky put in his hours at the bookstore and then headed home for practice and dinner. He ached for Gabby's company and hated to leave her behind at the bookstore. Likewise, she had been very sorry to see him leave the store, other than that she now looked forward to seeing the view of him from behind as he walked away from her.

It was just after 6 p.m. and the phone rang at the Pad. Michael picked up the receiver and greeted the caller "Oh, hey, Gabby, nice to hear your voice. Yeah, Micky's here. Let me get him for you." He called over to Micky, who was sitting on the bandstand strumming his acoustic guitar, staring out the windows and looking glum. "Micky, it's Gabby on the phone for you."

Micky was taken by surprise at the prospect of an unexpected call from his girl, or at least in his mind that's what he now considered Gabby to be. He was all ready to mope around all evening missing her, so even the thought of hearing her voice was an unexpected treat. He took the receiver from Mike, gave a dirty look to Mr. Schneider, the dummy sitting silently at the kitchen table, and turned the other way so that he couldn't eavesdrop on Micky's conversation.

"Hey, Gabby, I wasn't expecting to hear from you! What's up?"

"I miss you, Micky. That's what's up." Gabby sounded as miserable as Micky felt. Her voice was low and uncharacteristically on the needy side. She was letting her raw emotions leak out over the phone line.

"Oh." That was as much as Micky could manage. He was absolutely stunned into silence.

"That all you've got to say for yourself, Dolenz? Oh? You get me all worked up into a state and then you remorselessly say 'Oh' like you're not to blame for me being lonely and bored on a Thursday night?"

"Sorry, you just took my breath away and I had nothing witty to parry you with. You should take that as the ultimate compliment," Micky admitted.

"Yay, I will," Gabby crowed with satisfaction. "Have you got movie theaters up there in Malibu?"

"Yeah, we've got 'em."

"Can you see if _Taming of the Shrew_ is playing somewhere near you tonight? We could go see it if you're not busy with the guys or entertaining another girl."

"Now Gabby, hold on, we've been through this..."

"Just teasing you, Micky. I figure it's better if we can laugh at ourselves now. I'm sorry. I won't mention it again if you're still sensitive about it. I personally think it's kind of flattering that you gave up every guy's wet dream to be with me."

"You do? Wow, well, thanks, I think..."

"So have you got a newspaper there? I'm not sure we have one. Can you see if there's a theater near you where we can see the movie? You've been doing an awful lot of driving lately and I'd like to come to you if possible."

"Sure, hold on, let me check." He ran to the living room and picked up a copy of the _Los Angeles Times_ and scanned the Calendar section to see what movies were playing in the area. Then he went back to the phone and picked it up. "It's playing here in Malibu at 9:30 p.m. Is that too late for you?"

"No, I'm a night owl. That would be fine. I'll come by and pick you up around 8:45. I'd like to get there early so we can get good seats and buy my Red Vines and whatever snacks you want. I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay, can't wait!" Micky put down the phone in a bit of a daze. He was finally being pursued instead of pursuing. How had the dynamic finally turned in his favor? By being a decent guy. By being a friend. By being respectful. And by doing things in the right order. He remembered what Dawn had said she hoped for him, that he could get his train back on the track, and that if he and Gabby were to be lovers, they'd have to be friends first. When he'd had that talk with Dawn at the baseball game, it had all seemed so far-fetched and out of reach. Now for the first time, momentum seemed to be moving in his direction. He felt thrilled from the roots of his wild, curly hair down to the tips of his toes.

Micky rushed up the twisted iron staircase to change his clothes and get ready for a date he never thought he'd get the opportunity to have. In a way, he could now relate to Lynda, the girl who was having dates with Davy she thought she'd never have. Lynda had, in fact, become a stable force in Davy's universe. He had begun to cling to her for support, succor, solace and sanity, as he counted down the days to his military induction physical. Davy was no longer the insincere playboy, at least for the moment. Micky thought Davy was beginning to see life for what it was, not a game but a one-time, never-to-be-repeated proposition where every experience counts towards the sum total and either builds your character or tears it down. With the help of a good woman, he was navigating the most terrifying, challenging circumstances he'd ever been faced with. He was seeing Lynda as a person, not an object, and he was letting her into his mind and heart like he had never welcomed in any other "bird" he'd dated before. Micky was watching it unfold before him, and he could also identify with Davy's experience in some respects. They were both doing some much-needed growing up. How lucky they were to have found two extraordinary women to help them navigate that journey.

Gabby arrived at the Pad and greeted Mike with a hug when he opened the door. He said Micky was still upstairs, primping for his date with her, which made her giggle. Just at that moment, Micky emerged from the bedroom and heard his comment and complained "Knock it off, Mike, or I'll tell Gabby about how you got rooked at poker by a midget chick."

Gabby laughed and replied "Oh, I already heard all about it. You oughta know by now that women talk about everything. That's old news!"

Micky slid down the bannister, frightening the wits out of Gabby. She had yet to see him pull his signature stunt and was more than a little alarmed that he'd end up injuring himself, and she shrieked with fright.

"Don't sweat it, babe, I do this every day of my life. Just another of my many hidden talents."

Mike dryly observed, "Yeah, it's right up there with another of his talents – modesty."

"Okay, Daddy, we're going to see a movie. We'll be back late most likely. Don't wait up for us. See you later."

Gabby and Micky got their various snacks – for Gabby, Red Vines and a soda to share with Micky, and for Micky, an enormous bucket of popcorn. Gabby looked doubtfully at the size of his popcorn bucket and said "Didn't you ever hear of the maxim 'Never eat anything bigger than your head?'"

"Nope, that's a new one on me. What's the logic behind that one?"

Gabby paused for a moment to think and said "Hmph. I don't actually know. But it sounds wise, doesn't it?"

Micky shrugged his shoulders and said "Nope, sounds pretty daft if you ask me, as Davy would say."

They settled in to watch the movie, but first there were trailers and previews for other movies. After each one, they gave their assessment as to whether they would or would not plan to go see that movie, and made tentative dates for the future accordingly. This gave both Gabby and Micky a warm glow to know there was a future ahead of them filled with more movies to share.

The feature movie, starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, was a bawdy, sexy, raucous, Shakespearian comedy romp about manners, morals, love, marriage, wealth and sex. Since they were married at the time the movie was filmed, there was an extra level of sexual electricity between the two leading actors, and it came across the screen palpably. This was just the type of movie to go see with a guy or gal you were falling in lust or in love with, and by the end of the movie, both Micky and Gabby felt several degrees hotter than they did when they sat down at the beginning. It was hard for both of them to maintain their composure at certain points. They were both starting to feel a physical and emotional need for each other, and the movie served to highlight those feelings.

Once again, as they left the movie, they stayed silent as the movie's sponsor, this time, Gabby, gave the invitee, Micky, some time to mull it over before rendering his opinion. They decided to walk towards the beach, which was across the street from the strip mall where the movie theater was located. As they walked along the shore, they held hands and traced designs in the wet sand with their feet.

"So what are you thinking about, Micky? Did that movie do anything for you?" Gabby finally inquired. She was agog with curiosity about his impression, and a bit nervous she had missed the mark with such an intellectually challenging film for a date night.

Micky exhaled loudly and stretched his arms above his head, then brought them down around Gabby and captured her in his grasp. "I thought it was hot. Sexy. Challenging. Moving." With each adjective, he kissed her lightly on the lips. "I think love is a lot of things, and that movie had a lot to say about the subject. It certainly wasn't encyclopedic, though. There's a lot more to be said on the topic."

"I have to agree with you there. But I did so want to see Katharina tame Petruchio. I can't tell you how rare it is for women to see themselves up on the big screen, asking for what they want and getting it. And even though in the end she acted like she let him tame her, you know damn well he got tamed as well." Gabby grinned cockily at Micky, knowing she was speaking with a purpose and with a meaning she wanted to convey to him.

"You told me a while back you didn't want to tame me, Gabby, that I could stay tutti frutti. That still goes, right? You're not trying to do that with me, right?" asked Micky.

"No, I'm not. I'm just asking for what I want, for what I need."

"So ask."

Gabby pulled her head back from Micky and took a step back, too so that she could see him properly and look him in the eye. "You really want me to?"

"Yeah, I do. How else will I know whether I can give you what you need and want if I don't know what they are? We guys aren't clairvoyant, you know, and even though society pegs us as the aggressors, I never have really felt all that comfortable in that role. Maybe that's why I failed so spectacularly with you in the first place. I was a fish out of water and you spotted a phony a mile away. So I'll ask you again. Tell me what you want, tell me what you need, tell me how fast, how much, when, where, everything. Keep all your lines open and your signals really clear. I want to give it all to you. I want you to have everything I have to give. I'm falling for you, Gabby. You know that by now, don't you?"

"Actually, I didn't. I'm kind of floored. But I guess I figured out tonight that I was falling for you, otherwise I wouldn't have called you and asked you to go to the movies. Before, when I was trying to spark a relationship with those vanilla losers like Fred and Dan, I'd ask them out without batting an eyelash, because it meant nothing to me. They meant nothing to me. But asking you out, that was a huge step, because you are something else. You have the power to melt me and turn me into a feral animal, a wild brushfire I can't control. I could lose all that distance I put between us that first night and get really hurt. I could end up back in my Berkeley days where my heart gets sliced open and bled dry. You're a huge risk and it feels dangerous to step across the line towards you. And yet I couldn't not call you tonight. I had to. But I didn't know how far you'd come towards me. And knowing that now isn't scaring me, which ironically scares me! I ought to be scared but I'm happy. Shouldn't past bad experience and common sense tell me to run a mile from you? And yet I can't. I want to be closer to you. I want to know you better, touch you more, share more experiences, and dive in deeper with you. Nothing makes sense to me other than that I'm drawn to you and I feel like I can't and shouldn't ignore it."

"Then don't," Micky said simply. "That's your intuition and instincts leading you in the right direction, Gabby. Towards something good and right and meant to be. I promise to take good care of your heart. I can't guarantee you anything. But I will promise you I'll give you everything I have. We're both humans, not robots. Life will always let you down, and eventually so will I because I'm human. And you'll let me down, too, at some point. That's real love and that's real life. But let's support each other through the growing pains and disappointments. Let's keep being friends and getting to know each other. I'm in no hurry. I want to do this right. I want to do right by you. You've already done right by me and saved me from going down a really bad path I was following. I owe you my life and happiness. I'm going to give you that back if you'll let me."

"I can't do anything else at this point, if I want to be happy. If I want to be true to myself. If I want to do right by you, Micky. And I do."

She stood on her tiptoes and silently asked for a kiss, which he was happy to bestow. He enveloped her in his arms and kissed her with his whole upper body but keeping the rest to himself, hugging her, swaying with her, ravishing her lips and roaming all around her mouth, exploring the outside only. There was time for the inside later. One step at a time. They broke the kiss and stared into each other's eyes for a few moments, then joined hands and began to walk back up the beach towards Gabby's car.

Gabby pulled up to the Pad and turned off the motor. She and Micky shifted around in their seats and they looked at each other. She said "I don't want to say goodnight, but it's the right thing to do, just like last night. But I just wanted you to know that's how I feel tonight, and it's how I felt last night, too."

Micky gave her a sunny smile, overjoyed to be getting such positive feedback and open communication from Gabby now. "Yeah, that's exactly what I felt and thought last night, and how I feel and think tonight, too." He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly and touched foreheads with her. "Thanks for the movie. I loved it. Let's go see some more of those new ones when they come out. And some science fiction movies."

"It's a date, Micky. By the way, we girls are going to come to tomorrow night's gig, too. We can't get enough of you boys. I hope that's cool with y'all."

"As Mike said the other night, it's okeedokeeeey!"

Gabby looked at him skeptically. "Mike said that? I mean, I haven't known him long, but he's usually Mr. Sobersides. Sounds like he musta broken into Peter's psychedelia stash."

"Nah, he was on a natural high, courtesy of your friend, Miss Sweet Petite, as he calls her. But do me a favor and keep that to yourself. That's inside information."

Gabby giggled. "Okay, Micky. I'll zip it. I'm glad he and Wendy found each other. They make quite a pair."

"Yeah, me too. In fact, it's because of his blissed out state that night that I was able to take advantage of his good mood and break the news to him about me working at Simpsons."

"Well, I have some inside information for you. According to Wendy, Mike didn't give you a hard time about it because he likes me and thinks I'm just the woman to tame you. Maybe he's a Shakespeare fan, too." She gave a giggle and pinched Micky's cheek. "See you tomorrow night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	15. Chapter 15

The girls rolled up at the Friday night gig and were damn glad they did. Previously, they had reserved only Saturday nights for Monkees gigs but since they were now girlfriends as well as fans, they had decided to step up their attendance and be supportive of their men's efforts all weekend. When they got there, they realized that had they been absent from the gig, there would have been hell to pay and some trouble might have started. Gabby had forgotten that Micky mentioned the Friday gig at the bar after the softball game. Most of the Simpsons softball team was in attendance and all of its female members were there, dancing as close to the stage as possible and swooning and mooning like little fools.

Dawn was loaded for bear, ready to take on any woman who tried to poach her man, while Wendy was nearly in tears. Gabby was philosophical about the situation and knew her position was not threatened. Lynda knew that Davy was a wild card at the best of times, but she had a pretty good sense of his mindset and figured he was too famished to flirt and knew he need stability in his life right now and didn't really have the energy to start up a new fling with anyone but her, so she didn't feel threatened either. So she and Gabby set to work calming the other two gals down and trying to keep the peace and get them to try to enjoy themselves as usual.

Things started to mellow out again until another confounding factor entered the mix. Dazzling Dan turned up at the club and began to hit on Gabby. He didn't just ask her to dance. If that had been the case, she might have been able to handle the situation with some grace and compassion and a minimum of fuss. But Dan seemed to be determined to make a scene, possibly because Micky was on the stage and not in a position to intervene. Gabby was wearing a form-fitting, black jersey tank dress cinched with a black elastic belt with a buckle in the shape of a clock face. Noticing this whimsical adornment, Dan sauntered up to Gabby and leaned in and asked her "Hey, Gabby, what tiiiiiiiime is it?"

Gabby was embarrassed for Dan and suspected he had fortified himself with some liquid courage in order to make such a bold foray into her personal space. She fixed him with a "don't fuck with me" look and said quietly and firmly "It's quittin' time, Dan. I think you should go home."

"Ah, come'on, Gabby, loosen up, le'sss dance. You asked me out a few weeks ago. You wanted to go out with me. I know you want me. Well, here's your chance. I'm yours."

Gabby was floored at the arrogance and _chutzpah_ of this asshole, thinking that her affections weren't conditional upon being treated like a human being and not a piece of meat. Not to mention him thinking there was no expiration date on her invitation that was extended in good faith weeks ago, prior to him telling her in no uncertain terms that he wasn't interested in her and her moving on with her life and finding another man she was happily dating.

"Dan, if you can't figure out what's wrong with this situation, I'm not even going to take the time to explain it to you. I just want you to leave me alone. Walk away and don't ever talk to me again unless it's for business purposes."

Now Dan seemed to be processing her request and his face began to get red and contorted. His usually mellow expression began to transform into something darker and more threatening. As he moved towards her with hands extended like claws, Gabby began to get frightened and back away. Slowly, calmly, she reached down and removed her shoe, tucked the high heel between her knuckles and made a fist, which she aimed at Dan's face. She leaned in towards him and said "I'm only going to say this to you once more, Dan. Walk away and don't ever talk to me again unless it's for business purposes. And if you don't walk away right now, you won't be talking to me for business purposes either because I will make sure your ass gets fired from Simpsons after I file a restraining order against you."

Suddenly Dan snapped out of his trance, held up his hands in surrender and began to back off. He walked backwards several paces until he bumped into another couple who were dancing. He lost his footing and took a tumble and landed on the floor. It took him too long to regain his footing, and a bouncer made his way over to Dan and manhandled him off the floor, dragging him towards the exit.

The girls now gathered around Gabby and hugged her close. They had allowed her the room to handle the situation in her own way, but they felt the need now to surround her in the safe cocoon of their supporting arms, now that the confrontation was over. They knew better than to intervene on her behalf, acknowledging her history as a survivor of abuse and her visceral need to take control over her own self-determination when it came to how men treated her. But they were all spooked by how the scene had gone down.

They now looked to the bandstand to see whether the fellas had noticed the situation and sure enough, all the guys were looking in their direction with eyes blazing with anger, shock and indignation, mixed with pride and admiration for Gabby's grit and bravery. Tonight was turning out to be no normal gig night and there was going to have to be a lot of debriefing after all was said and done, which none of them was looking forward to.

During the first break, Micky tried to rush over to Gabby, but he had to break through a cordon of the usual groupies plus a contingent of Simpsons female employees. He had a sensation of being trapped in a mythical story in which a man's good fortune turned into a curse. Before he met Gabby, he would have been in hog heaven being so heavily in demand by so many nubile females. Now he was in hell. He could see Gabby, but he couldn't get to her. The women were holding him back from her, whispering to him, requesting of him, proposing to him, suggesting to him, begging him, yelling at him, demanding of him, pushing him, clutching him, preventing him from getting to where he most wanted and needed to be – at Gabby's side.

Finally, he dispensed with his innate people-pleasing tendencies and good manners and broke free from the women crowding around him. He rushed to claim Gabby and enfold her in his arms, and he swiftly guided her to the back of the club towards a private room which the guys sometimes used as a dressing room. As soon as they entered the room, he closed the door and then clutched her tightly, speaking no words at all. He just stroked her hair and waited to see what she needed, what she wanted, waited for her to tell him or show him.

Then she began to tremble and her knees buckled and she couldn't stand on her own. He lifted her off the ground and carried her over to the couch which he sat upon with her on his lap, his arms still around her, cradling her and rocking her. She wept softly and continued to shake, then began to hyperventilate. Micky shushed her and said "Breathe with me, Gabby. Breathe with me. In, out. In, out." He took her hand and put it to his chest and kept at it until he had her breathing match his at the same slow pace and she wasn't heaving and looking so light-headed.

Now Gabby's system had started to shut down from the stress. She just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. "Micky, can I just lie down on this couch for the rest of the gig? You've got work to do and I don't want you worrying about me."

"Sure you can, babe. You just stay here and take care of you and I'll be back here when we're done. Then I'll take you home. Sound okay with you?"

"Yeah, sounds good. We'll need to talk about it, I know. But I don't want to talk about it for now. Is that okay?"

"Sure, Gabby. You just take care of you. I just want you to be okay."

He helped her lie down and found a coat to sling over her like a blanket. Then he lowered the lights and gave her a kiss on the cheek and caressed her hair while she wriggled around a bit trying to get comfortable on the decrepit couch. Satisfied that she had found a position she could tolerate, he gave her another kiss and said "I'll see you soon," and he left to return to the bandstand.

As he walked back to the stage, Micky was in agony, seeing Gabby so distraught and unhappy. Then it hit him. He realized now he was in love with Gabby. No two ways about it. This is what that felt like. He had never really experienced it. He had had girlfriends, and he had fancied himself in love before a couple of times when he was in high school, but he now knew that even when he'd "gone steady" with them that that was never the real thing. How could someone seventeen or eighteen years old know what true love was? Now he was twenty-two and had only just barely started dating this woman, had only kissed her a handful of times and hadn't even touched her below the neck, but he knew as surely as he stood in his boots that he was in love with her. None of it made any sense, but yet it made perfect sense in the most nonsensical of ways. His head was in a whirl, he had no clarity and no answers, except for one. He was in love and he would do anything to make Gabby's life better and to see her happy, because that's what made him happy.

The second set passed in a blur not only for Micky but for the rest of the guys. They were all quite shaken by what had happened to Gabby. They realized that somehow, they had coalesced with the girls into something resembling a wider collective group, a gang, a group, a unit, or a family. What had once been two separate groups of four was now a force of eight, and trouble for one was a trouble shared by all. Just as had happened when Davy's draft noticed darkened their lives, so it was the case that their hearts were all breaking and their anger was inflamed on Gabby's behalf tonight. It was a relief when the last note was played and the last thank you was said to the audience.

The groupies were given the bum's rush with the aid of the bouncers tonight and the instruments were quickly disassembled and packed away into the Monkeemobile. Micky left to fetch Gabby from the dressing room and find out what she wanted to do next and how he could support her. Her response took him completely by surprise.

"I want to go to the Pad with you tonight."

"To the Pad? Why there?" Micky was totally flummoxed. There was no privacy at the Pad, and only a narrow single bed to squeeze into with Mike sleeping in the next bed over.

"Because I don't want to sleep alone tonight, I don't want to be apart from you, and if you come over to my place, I don't trust myself not to use bad judgment in this vulnerable state and go too far with you. If we're at your place, with Mike in the room, nothing will happen and I can be with you and you can hold me and comfort me. Does that make any sense at all?" Gabby whimpered and looked like she knew she was asking something that sounded completely off-the-wall crazy but which in her own mind made perfect, rational sense.

"No, I totally get it. It's brilliant and it ticks all the boxes. It's right for you and me and that's all that matters. You come home with me tonight. I'll take care of you. I told you I would and that's what I'm going to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	16. Chapter 16

Everyone gathered by the Monkeemobile to sort out what their next move was. Apparently, between the unexpected surge of new groupies and the unnerving incident with Dan, the girls were very shaken up and variously didn't want to part from the guys or Gabby. Wendy was in need of reassurance from Mike, plus she was adamant that she not leave Gabby's side, so she asked if she could stay with Mike in his room at the Pad. Dawn felt Gabby and Wendy needed her support, so she wanted to stay with Pete in his room, but Pete needed Davy's okay on this. Surprisingly, Davy was feeling very emotional about the attack on Gabby, having adopted her as something of a big sister after she intervened to help save him from the draft, and felt that anything she needed for support she should have, so he readily agreed. Moreover, much to Lynda's surprise, he asked her to stay at the Pad with him as he felt completely wrung out by the evening's events and on the verge of emotional collapse himself owing to his weakened physical state and continued worry about whether he'd make his weigh-in for his physical. So the result ended up being an unprecedented slumber party at the Pad, where every single bed was occupied by two bodies, male and female, huddled together seeking comfort and solace.

* * *

"Mike?"

"Yeah, Wendy?"

"I didn't like it how those girls rushed the stage and ogled you and the guys tonight."

"I know, honey. I didn't either."

Wendy turned to Mike in the dark, trying to see with the aid of the moonlight streaming through the window what the expression on his face really said.

"You sure? You sure you wouldn't rather be with one of those skinny, tall, pretty girls who you can parade around on your arm and will make you look like a stud?"

"Wendy, honey, I'm right where I want to be. In fact, I can't believe how lucky I am to be where I am. I've never liked those groupies. They've never been mah style. You can ask any of the guys. And frankly, I've never been their flavor of the month either. Oh, once in a while one of 'em will get desperate because they got turned down by all three of the other guys and they might wander over mah way, but other than that, I never get a look."

Wendy was shocked. "You've gotta be kidding me! What's wrong with those women? How dare they not want you?"

Mike laughed with bewildered amusement. "Wendy, first you're pissed off that they want me tonight, and now you're offended that they never wanted me before! You are a funny one." He kissed her on the nose and stroked her hair.

"Well, I just mean, how can anyone look at you and not see how gorgeous you are, how kind, how talented, how desirable you are? I saw those women tonight coming at you and I wondered whether I was going to lose you. Whether one of them was going to catch your eye and that would be the end of you and me."

"That's not gonna happen, darlin'. You think I'd give up what you and I've worked so hard to build so I could toss it all away for cheap flattery and a roll in the hay just to get mah ego stroked? And don't you know those chicks are only in it for the braggin' rights, so they can go home and tell their girlfriends that they fucked a band member? They practically got score cards! They aren't lookin' for love. They're looking for status or quick and dirty sex or maybe a way to get to the next level of success and fame if they think that's where you're headed. They ain't hardly human the way they throw it around so meaninglessly and that's how they treat us guys, too."

"Wow, I had no idea."

"Well now ya do, and you can quit worryin' about it. You're the real deal, mah Sweet Petite. I wouldn't step one inch out of line if I thought I would jeopardize what we have, ya hear?"

"Yeah, Mike, I hear real good, even when we're whispering. Thanks for reassuring me. Sorry if I sound crazy and needy. I just have never dated a guy like you, a musician, a guy on the up, moving towards success. I don't really know how to handle it."

"Well, I've hardly dated at all, period, so welcome to the club of the lost and confused." Mike kissed her again on the nose and gave a goofy giggle.

"We sure are a pair, aren't we, Mike?"

"Yup. We sure are. Let's keep it that way. Why tamper with success? Think you can sleep easy now, darlin'?"

"Yeah, Mike. I feel better now."

"Good. Lay your head down on mah chest and hear mah heart beatin' just for you."

* * *

Micky and Gabby were in the next bed, listening to this conversation, holding their breath, straining to hear every word. They didn't even try to hide it from each other or to pretend that they weren't eavesdropping. Micky started to feel miserable again, like he was moving back in time, worried about what Gabby was thinking, whether she was reassessing the wisdom of letting Micky into her life, into her trusted circle, dropping her boundaries and permitting him to breach her castle walls. He felt her take his chin in her hand and guide his face up to hers so that she could whisper into his ear.

"Don't, Micky."

"Don't what?"

"Don't torture yourself. Don't ask yourself those questions I know you're asking yourself, and don't second guess our situation. Don't project that conversation we just heard onto you and me. We're not in that place, and that's not us. You're not that groupie groper anymore, and I'm not that insecure and never have been. I know who you are now and I know that what you want is different than what it used to be. I also know that what you want is what I want. So we're moving in the same direction and there's no daylight between us on that. We've both got pasts we're trying to leave behind and we promised to do that." Gabby loosened her grip on Micky's chin and now gently stroked it.

"But tonight, when those girls from Simpsons rushed the stage, did it upset you like it did Wendy and Dawn?"

"Nope. No more than it has every day when you turn up at the bookstore and I see them ogling your cute little ass in those jeans shorts. Or when I walk into the break room and hear them talking shit about me because they're furious that I'm the one you want and not them."

"So the only trauma we're dealing with tonight is what happened with you and Dan? I didn't contribute to your distress?"

"Right. You're reading that exactly right. And frankly, I'm really proud of you and grateful. You let me handle Dan myself. You didn't patronize me and come leaping off the stage and try to intervene. You didn't play the jealous or overprotective boyfriend. You trusted me to take care of it myself, which I did. What you did do was comfort me when all was said and done, and you took exquisite care of me, and you still are. Which by the way, thank you so much for that. I've never had a man take better care of me than you, Micky. Never."

Micky sighed and blinked away some tears. He was overcome with emotion that he could barely contain. So he didn't bother to. He took Gabby in his arms and started to softly weep into her neck and said "Thank you for seeing me for who I really am, for letting me redeem myself, and for letting me know that you value my presence in your life. I feel so bad for the way I treated you when we first met, and I've been trying so hard, Gabby..."

"I know, Micky, I know." She stroked his curls and let her fingernails graze his neck, then started back at the crown of his head and repeated the movement over and over. "I wish you would ease up on yourself, now. I wish you'd forgive yourself. You've gotten to the point where you're traumatizing yourself. And believe me, I know what that's like. You made some choices in your life that didn't work out and you've started blaming yourself and getting all negative on yourself. Believe me, I've walked that road. You're the first ray of sunlight in my life since I broke up with Nick, other than meeting Dawn when I moved in with Wendy when I came back to L.A. Nick lowered my self-esteem level to nil, and I had to build myself back up. It was painful and arduous and I don't want to see you tearing yourself down. It's so unnecessary."

Micky wiped his eyes with the pillow case and sniffled a bit, then bit his lip, as if afraid to say what was on his mind. Gabby just waited in silence to see whether he'd divulge it or if it was too personal to share.

"Gabby, I realized something tonight that's going to freak you out if I tell you, but if I don't tell you, I'll be lying to you. So I'm only going to say part of what's really on my mind. You mean a hell of a lot to me."

Gabby blinked and tried to decode what Micky was trying to convey to her. 'No, he doesn't mean what I think he means, does he?' she thought to herself. 'Not after knowing each other for so short a time, not when I've been such a hardass on him, not when we've barely kissed or even touched.' She decided to not read too much into what he was telling her and to just stay open and neutral for now.

"You're meaning more and more to me every day, Micky. I'm glad you told me that. I want to be with you and I want to be closer to you every day. I'm ready for that. I'm not sure what else to say without asking you questions you aren't ready to answer or getting answers you think I'm not ready to hear. So am I telling you things that give you the right idea for where I want our relationship to go?"

"Yeah, you are. Thanks for keeping your promise to keep your lines of communication open and to tell me what you want and to ask for it. I want to give you everything you want."

"Thanks for taking such good care of me, Micky. Me and my friends. Y'all are taking good care of us tonight. I think we all need each other."

"Yeah, I definitely think we do. We've got a unique situation happening here. Never in the history of the Pad has there been two bodies in every bed, each two people who care about each other, and a group as a whole who care for each other like we all do. And I think in all modesty you ought to accept credit for most of that."

"Thanks, Micky." She kissed him gently on the lips and then turned over. "Will you rub my back? I'm afraid to go to sleep. I keep seeing Dan's angry red face when I try to shut my eyes."

"Sure thing, babe. Anything for you."

* * *

"Pete! This is not the time or the place for you to be getting friendly with my girls. So hands off! What kind of sex fiend have I created?" Dawn giggled and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay." Pete sheepishly removed his hands, laid back on the pillow and put his hands behind his head to keep them anchored down safely.

"Hey, Pete. You know what I think?" Dawn tried to whisper, but she being a gregarious person was not really built for whispering and Davy answered in Pete's stead.

"You think Micky's in love with Gabby, don't you Dawn?"

"Davy? Do you mind? A little privacy, please?" Dawn tried to sound indignant but it came out with a gurgle of laughter.

"Of for God's sake, how can you even entertain such a concept given the circumstances? We're three bleedin' feet apart!" Davy snorted at the preposterous situation they were in, then laughed good humoredly. "Lynda, you agree with me, don't you, luv? Micky's got it bad for Gabby, doesn't he?"

"Yes, I would say so," she observed with her usual mild understatement.

Pete chipped in: "I think love is wonderful. Everyone should love."

Dawn replied tartly, "Well, you haven't said you love me, Pete. So that kind of makes you a hypocrite, doesn't it?"

"Dawn, why do I have to say it for it to be so? Of course I love you! I wouldn't have let you take my virginity if I didn't love you." Peter sounded shocked.

Davy groaned and cried out "Too much information!"

Peter continued "Dawn, when you asked me if I was saving myself, if I was a virgin, I told you I was looking for one woman to love. You're that woman. The act of making love is called that for a reason, isn't it? That's why it's not called making sex."

"Wow, Peter," Dawn gasped. "I didn't really stop to think of it like that. So you love me?"

Peter turned to Davy in the dark and said in an exasperated fashion "I don't know why you guys always act like I'm the dummy. I think I've got a pretty decent grasp on the facts of life. Maybe I don't always articulate things in the way most people do, but I've got insight."

Now he turned back to Dawn, sat up, gripped her arms and looked into her eyes, which he could vaguely make out in the moonlight: "Yes, Dawn, of course I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you." He kissed her each time he said the words.

Dawn was overcome with emotion but also tickled and thrilled and could not contain her effervescent nature, so she burst out laughing. "I love you too, Sweet Pete."

This left Davy and Lynda a bit nonplussed, particularly as their own situation seemed miles away from the type of emotional connection that Peter and Dawn had. Lynda got up and excused herself from the room.

Lynda wandered over to the bay windows facing the beach and looked to see if the moon was visible from the patio. Seeing it was, she decided to take a chance that the night air was not too cool and opened the sliding glass door to the patio and stepped out. It was a bit chilly, so she grabbed an afghan that was thrown on the couch and she sat down on a lumpy chaise the guys kept outside year-round.

Davy had followed her and allowed her to get herself settled before he made his move to sit down next to her. He put his arm around her and asked "Want to talk about what's on your mind?"

Lynda sighed and responded "Oh, I don't know whether it's worth discussing. I think we both know that what you and I have is nothing like a real relationship, nothing like what Peter and Dawn have, and it probably never will be."

Davy's forehead wrinkled and he asked "Wot you mean, Lynda? We've been going together steady like for a couple of weeks. That's a real relationship."

Lynda rolled her eyes. "You're not looking for love, Davy, or at least not real love. Your type of love is the kind that begins at hello and ends either at sundown or when the next pretty girl comes along, whichever comes first."

Davy didn't bother to deny Lynda's assessment of his past attitude towards women and the way he changed girlfriends so frequently. "You're right, Lynda, that that's been my standard operating procedure for a long time. And you're right to call me out on it."

"Please don't misunderstand me, Davy, I'm not calling you out on it, and I'm not complaining either. I'm just stating a fact, observing, telling you what's on my mind because you asked. I actually find it kind of sad and depressing, but not for myself, Davy, more for you. I know that when you're sick of me or meet a girl you find prettier and more novel and you dump me, I'll move on and some other fella will find value in me and I'll eventually find happiness with someone else. But what will happen to you? I've grown fond of you and I'm not looking forward to the changing of the guard when you start from scratch with another girl and she knows nothing about what you've been through this week, with the valley of the shadow of death hovering near you. She won't have shared that with you. She won't know your pain or your fear or your suffering, nor your pluck or courage or determination or any of the fine qualities you've displayed this week, or conversely the crankiness and the bitterness and the orneriness that I've put up with, too, because I care about you and don't want you to face this alone."

"You mean you're only staying with me until this whole draft business is all over and then you're going to leave me Lynda?" Davy was aghast and surprisingly hurt and disappointed.

"No, it's not like that, Davy. It's more like I care for you a lot and want to be with you, plus I feel I've got a responsibility to you to be as good a girlfriend to you as I can, which means seeing you through this crisis. But I also feel sure you're going to chuck me when life's going your way again, and we both know it, and I'd just as soon not get attached to you because that means I'll let myself in for heartache and hurt feelings I don't want to have. I think you're with me now because you need the ballast and stability I'm giving you, and once you're free of the hangman's noose, you'll move on and be back to your gigolo ways. 

"I just wish that you could get off the merry-go-round, Davy. Maybe you could use this challenge in your life as more than a temporary break from your bad habits. Maybe use it as a signpost that there's more to life than sleeping around and chasing tail and getting your ego stroked. There are larger issues and more meaningful emotions to experience. I don't have to be the one you experience them with. But you ought to consider the possibility of what life would be like if you let yourself experience them with someone."

Lynda now rose from the chaise and started to walk back towards the bedroom. She didn't want to have a big discussion about this, nor convince Davy of anything. She had said her peace and wasn't going to say anything else. She also knew that most likely she would have no effect on Davy's way of approaching life, and that her commitment to him would remain steadfast as long as he was in training for his physical and/or chose to keep her around. Once the physical was over, however, she assumed they would go their separate ways. Still, she planned to stay in touch with all the guys, including Davy, and definitely with the gals. 

As she walked back towards the bedroom, Davy caught up to Lynda and spun her around. He took both her hands in his and looked her in the eye with that piercing, mesmerizing look that made most women swoon, but to which Lynda had now become mostly immune. 

"Thanks, Lynda, for giving it to me straight, and for caring about me as a person. No woman has ever done either of those things for me." He kissed her on the cheek, put his arm around her shoulders and led her back to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

The day after a crisis can go two ways: it can cause a hangover, or it can feel like a rebirth, like turning to a fresh blank page in a journal to write about new adventures, thoughts and ideas. Fortunately, with the diverse and positive mix of personalities, the day at 1334 North Beechwood Drive, Malibu, CA was of the latter variety, and everyone was in fairly high spirits. The girls always loved Saturday mornings and commandeered the television to watch their beloved Looney Tunes cartoons. Peter and Dawn volunteered to go hunt for some bagels and lox from the wilds of Malibu, and they came back with some provisions that weren't as ghastly as anticipated. The girls had all borrowed clothes from the guys to sleep in, and everyone lolled around in their sleepwear and took it easy until about midday. Then the girls decided they ought to head home for showers and a fresh change of clothes so that they could be ready for that night's gig, plus the guys wanted to do a run-through of a few numbers they felt needed polishing. An assembly line of goodbye kisses between couples took place at the door, plus hugs were exchanged among friends, and it was about the coziest sendoff possible for the still-traumatized Gabby, who promised to be at the night's gig come hell or high water.

As the girls traveled home, they swapped gossip about the various conversations they had had once the lights went out. Although Dawn had the most significant news love life-wise, they all found Lynda's story to be the most poignant and significant in the larger scheme of life and gender politics, and they chewed it over all the way home. They swore fealty to their friendship with Lynda. They promised that they would not cast her aside if she ended up getting the heave-ho from Davy, and that she was now officially a member of their tribe no matter what. This moved her to tears and they decided that what she needed was for the radio to be turned up to full blast and for songs to be sung at the top of everyone's lungs to cheer her up.

Gabby decided that for now, she would keep her inklings about Micky's deep feelings towards her to herself, as she wasn't sure of her ground and didn't want to overshoot the mark based on pure speculation. "Time will tell" was as far as she would commit when Dawn asked her flat out whether she thought Micky was in love with her. Wendy was happy to report that she thought she and Mike were on their way to the "I love you" part of their courtship, and everyone else was pretty sure they were already there but just hadn't said the words yet. So much to think about, so much to feel, so much that existed now that wasn't there just a few weeks ago, Gabby marveled.

* * *

When Gabby got home, she laid down on her bed for a nap and her pillow still smelled faintly of Micky. She was now getting used to that special scent. It was a combination of the ocean, cornflakes, whatever aftershave he used, and his own intrinsic smell. It intoxicated her and transported her to a happy, safe, funny place where life's possibilities widened out. Her life in Berkeley at the end of her stay there had gotten so narrow it had come down to her and her abuser, then only her and her mad denial, then self-loathing, then recognition of her grim reality, then terror, then ferocious anger. When she moved back to L.A. she was in a different type of denial with a new approach to dating that ignored the reality of who she was and what she really wanted and needed. Micky had come into her life and challenged all her established coping mechanisms and kicked over every single barrier, not taking no for an answer and peeling back her defenses not with violence but with humor, sincerity, persistence, patience and a childlike benignity.

She was used to having to keep her dukes up and be on guard with men no matter what the circumstances were, always in a defensive crouch. She had thought that she and Nick were equal partners in a social cause and when they had fallen in love she had made the mistake of letting her guard down with him and he had exploited her cruelly. When she met Micky, she thought she was doing him a kindness by recognizing him for the creep who he was and not trying to change him, something she wished she had been able to do with Nick. Unfortunately, predators do not come with labels on their foreheads. Narcissistic sociopaths like Nick hide their identities behind insidious charm, initially gentle but then coercive persuasion and a false front. With Micky, it was easy to spot his agenda. That was why, in a weird way, it had been so easy to form a friendship with him. She could accept his limitations because he wasn't trying to trick her. He had his cards on the table right from the start. He never tried to hide anything from her or exploit her, or at least he sucked so laughably bad at hiding his agenda that it came to the same thing. With him, pleasure was either mutual or it didn't happen at all, so he never made a move on her. In a weird way, she had tremendous respect for him for the way he approached his darker impulses – consent was important to him.

And what of Micky now? His evolution had taken no time or effort at all. He met her and decided he wanted her and he dropped the groupie scene immediately and never looked back. She felt she could trust him. She had not a scintilla of doubt. Unlike Wendy, who had etched into her very foundational psyche of her identity a baseline of insecurity, Gabby knew who she was and believed in her self-worth. She knew that she was worthy of love, was attractive enough to draw from a reasonably wide variety of men who would appreciate what she had to offer, and that at any rate, her self-worth and happiness didn't depend on her status in a romantic relationship anyway. She had other things in life that she cared about and other reasons in life to exist than to be someone's girlfriend or wife or mother. She had huge plans for contributing to the greater good of society and the world and everything else would have to fit in around that, just like Micky's love life fit in between his gigs. She felt very much Micky's equal.

She felt like she could trust Micky's transformation. He wasn't blowing smoke up her ass. This was who Micky really was. He said he wanted her and that he'd work to be worthy of her. She felt she could trust his word. She thought about the lyrics of a Monkees song and changed the words a bit – he was the kind of guy she could love. Whether she ever got there was not something she was going to rush, but she had a feeling Micky might already be there, that he might have been trying to tell her last night that he was in love with her. Still, she didn't want his progress down that path to influence hers. She was her own person and needed to take things on her own timeline. He had said she could, and so she would. That was his greatest gift to her and one of the reasons she knew she _could_ love him.

* * *

Saturday night's gig started out more like the usual ones they had attended in the past. True, there was the usual contingent of regular groupies, plus a few returners from Simpsons, but the newcomers seemed to have figured out that they were very low on the pecking order, apparently taking their cues from the older-standing groupies who elbowed them sharply to the back of the pack and schooled them on groupie etiquette (such as it existed at all), and also reading the negative feedback, or rather non-feedback from the guys in the band.

Michael also arranged for the bouncers to be more proactive in protecting the band from physical contact from the audience. He also had a word with Fred about what had happened to Gabby the night before and mentioned the terms "legal liability" and "attempted sexual assault." He requested that Fred have a bouncer roaming the dance floor from now on to look after the patrons better, with a special eye on the girls. Even though Fred was not happy to be an ex-boyfriend of Gabby's receiving a request from her new boyfriend's friend to do her a favor, he did have some feelings for her on a level of human decency. Plus he knew her well enough to know that she would have no problem at all causing a ruckus with his father the club owner about the lack of safety provided for the regular patrons if she had a mind to be a pain in his ass, so he erred on the side of caution and assigned a bouncer to watch over Gabby and her friends from now on.

Even so, when Micky left the stage for their first break, a giggly Simpsons cashier named Sally followed him into the men's room and cornered him in a stall. She gave him her sweetest smile and ran her hands through his hair, started to whisper sweet nothings to him and then words and phrases that were much more dirty and suggestive, then she gave his ass a squeeze. Micky was appalled and wanted absolutely no part of what was happening, but he froze up and didn't know what to do. Even in his wildest days, no girl had ever been this audacious and never had he been mauled or groped. He'd always been the aggressor and he'd never touched a woman without her consent. When Sally's hand moved around to his front and began to grip and fondle his crotch, Micky finally regained his bearings and was able to mobilize his limbs and vocal chords. "Get off me, you skanky bitch!" he cried, and he shoved her hard through the unlocked stall door so that she fell onto the floor, right on her ass.

Micky now fled the men's room and sought out Mike, who was standing at the bar sipping a soft drink. He could see the look of terror and distress on Micky's face. "What's wrong, Mick? You look like you've got Satan himself on your tail!"

"I have, Mike, I have! Order me a double whiskey!"

"But Micky, we don't drink durin' gigs, you know that."

"Just do it, Mike! It's an emergency."

Mike interrupted the bartender, who was serving some other patrons, and told him Micky was sick and needed a drink pronto, then handed it to Micky, who downed it in a few gulps.

"Alright, Micky. Slow down and tell me what's goin' on. What's happened?"

"I just got molested by a groupie in the men's head! Some chick from the bookstore backed me into a stall and felt me up like she was giving me Davy's military physical."

Mike's face turned to thunder and he began to sputter and wave his arms ineffectually, trying to think of something to say or do to address the situation but coming up empty, knowing the damage was already done and the trauma was all that was left to deal with.

"My God, Mick, I'm sorry that happened to you. We obviously didn't do a good enough job of arrangin' security for the band. This is gettin' out of hand. What can we do?"

"Not a damn thing, apparently. And what's Gabby gonna do when she hears about this? You think she's gonna believe that I got practically raped in the bathroom, that I didn't bring it on myself, with MY reputation? She's gonna flip. And you KNOW that girl who attacked me's gonna talk. She works at Simpsons and it's gonna be all over the store by tomorrow, and Gabby will hear about it, if she doesn't hear about it before we leave the club tonight. I'm gonna have to tell her myself." An expression of dread joined the shame and fear that contorted his features.

"Okay, Micky. Okay. Here's what you've got to do. You've got to go tell her NOW, while you're still in this state of shock, so she can see for herself that you didn't mess around on her. She's been through this herself. She'll believe you. Let me go find her. You go wait in the dressin' room and I'll bring her to you. Okay?"

"Okay, Mike. But I sure hope you're right. Or this will be the end of us. And I just can't bear it. I can't live without her. She's my everything. I love her."

Mike patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Just go wait for us in the dressin' room. I'll go find her right now."

Micky staggered to the dressing room and sat down on the couch, his head in his hands, tearing at his hair, tears in his eyes. He began to think about the worst things that could happen. What if Gabby didn't believe him? What if she believed him, but insisted that he quit the band so that he wasn't put in these types of compromising situations anymore? What if, what if, what if?

Within two minutes, Mike and Gabby entered the dressing room, Gabby hurling herself onto Micky, bowling him over onto his back on the couch.

"Micky, Mike said you got attacked in the bathroom! Was there a fight? Did some guy hit you? Are you bruised, did you get beat up?"

"I'll leave you two alone to talk," Mike said and discreetly closed the door.

Micky sat up and moved Gabby off him so that she could sit next to him and face him and he could look her in the eyes as he spoke.

"Gabby, I didn't get in a fight with a guy, and I didn't get beat up. I'm not physically hurt or bruised. I want you to hear me out and I hope to God you believe me."

Micky took a deep breath and looked into Gabby's worried eyes, as the tears streamed from his own eyes.

"What is it, Micky?" She put a palm to his cheek and stroked it. "Just tell me. Don't be afraid. What happened?"

"Gabby, I went in the men's room to do my business, and a girl from Simpsons followed me in there. I went into the stall and she followed me in before I could get the door closed and she . . . she molested me. She groped me all over. I swear to God I didn't touch her, I didn't ask her to touch me, I never gave her the eye or flirted with her. I never even saw her coming. She pinned me in there and started whispering filthy things to me and running her hands through my hair and all over my body and trying to sweet talk me and flirt with me while she was doing it, thinking I must be enjoying it, but Gabby, I wasn't, I swear I wasn't." Micky was sobbing now.

"Please Gabby, please believe me," he beseeched her. "I didn't try to get with a groupie. I'm not that guy anymore. I didn't want her attention and I didn't ask for it. I feel disgusting and I feel like I got raped. And I'm terrified that you're going to be angry with me and disgusted with me and you're going to leave me. Please don't leave me."

Gabby took her hands and steadied Micky by putting her hands on his heaving shoulders, but he wouldn't be still. He was rocking and sobbing inconsolably. So she climbed into his lap and hugged him fiercely and rocked with him, trying to establish a different, less distressed, more comforting rhythm.

"I believe you, Micky. I believe you, I believe you, I believe you." She said it over and over, a mantra, a song, a lullaby, trying to soothe him down, to hypnotize him into a calmer state of being.

"Micky, we were just here last night with the positions reversed. You never asked me whether I asked for it when Dan came after me. You trusted me. I trust you. It's not even a question. I told you, the past is the past. It's over and done with. What's really got me upset is that you've experienced something so awful that I would never wish on anyone. And what's worse is that you're a man and you've got no point of reference for how to deal with this. This happens to a large percentage of women at some time in their lives. You're completely without a coping mechanism, and you think you have ownership and responsibility for what happened to you. So let's get it clear right now and establish that that's complete and utter bullshit. You aren't to blame. You didn't do anything wrong. That would be like blaming yourself for getting rear ended on the freeway or murdered by a serial killer who stalked you for months, or walking down a street and having someone drop a piano on your head."

"But Gabby, what if I hadn't told you right away, what if you hadn't seen me freaking out, what if I hadn't been able to show you myself how upset I was? Would you still have trusted me enough to believe me that I was telling you the truth?" Micky was desperate for the truth, to know whether he really had all of her trust or not.

"Micky, I have a hundred percent faith in you. I was just thinking about it this morning. I have no reservations at all. I was thinking about how even when you were a sleaze, you were honest about it with me." They both laughed at the notion of this.

"You're not capable of being anything other than straight with me. You're guileless, you're not a liar and you're not a creep. You've got integrity and you've got your head on straight now. You've told me what you want and what you're willing to do to get it, and I believe you and have faith in you. That hasn't changed and it won't. The only way I'd lose faith in you is if the evidence started piling up, and even then I'd give you the chance to explain yourself. You've promised to give me your all. I will now promise to do the same. And I'll promise to always give you the benefit of the doubt, since clearly you are still very sensitive and insecure about my faith in you. I want that insecurity gone. It's a barrier between us and we can't move forward while it's there. That's what's keeping Mike and Wendy from getting truly close. We can't have that in our relationship. We don't need it. We're strong and confident people, except for our baggage. Let's truly let it go. Okay? Then we can say and do all the things we've been wanting to that we've been afraid to let go and experience. I'm declaring amnesty for both of us. Deal?"

Micky looked up at her with tears still leaking from his eyes and said "Deal." Then they embraced fiercely and kissed each other passionately.

"Now you need to go out there and join the fellas. Sounds like Davy's been on drums for a few numbers, but you know he's way too short to sit behind that drum kit and the natives are probably getting restless. The ladies want to see him shaking that ass up front. Plus we all want to hear your sweet voice singing something beautiful to make us float on cloud nine. So do you feel up to finishing up the second set?"

"Yeah, I can do it. Will you walk up to the stage with me and stay up there with me?"

"Sure I will. It will be an honor."

The two lovers put their arms around each other's waists and walked through a sea of dancing patrons. Micky led Gabby up to the stage and onto the platform. He arranged a stool for her to sit on next to his drum kit. Davy passed him the sticks as he seamlessly picked up the beat as Davy scampered to the front of the stage and grabbed his maracas.

When that number ended, Micky asked if Gabby had a request, and she said she loved how Micky sang _Sometime In The Morning_ , so Micky alerted the guys and requested of Mike that he allow Micky to introduce the number, a break with usual protocol. Micky announced to the crowd "This next song is dedicated to a very special lady, my girlfriend Gabby, who is my everything."

Micky knew that he was committing to a certain extent career suicide. Part of the band's attraction as a whole was the fantasy that on any given night, a female audience member could end up sleeping with one of them, or could at least fantasize about it. By planting his flag and declaring himself as being in a serious relationship, taking himself off the meat market, he was reducing his marketability as a star and also devaluing the fantasy of every song he sang, which redounded negatively to his fellow bandmates in a way as well. But he didn't care. After what he had suffered tonight, he felt the need to protect himself, to stake out a safe zone around his body, mind, heart and soul. He was willing to sacrifice his own popularity to do it, and he hoped his bandmates would support his efforts to keep himself safe and to secure his happiness.

There was another epic sleepover at the Pad that night, this time to comfort Micky. Gabby reflected on the round-robin nature of the comfort that volleyed from lover to lover and friend to friend in their circle, and how swiftly the need and the supply was exchanged. As they all made their way to bed, she made mention of this and suggested that they all count their blessings, and a few "amens" and "right ons" were heard murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	18. Chapter 18

Sunday morning dawned, and this time it felt more like a hangover. How could it not? The attack had been violent, or at least physically shocking, to Micky, and he was still in a sorry state. Gabby took the wheel and made the decision to cast aside her doubt and hesitation and forge ahead with their relationship, even if it got physical, if that's what was meant to be. She invited Micky to stay at her place.

"Pack a bag, Dolenz, you're coming to stay with me for a bit. Bring whatever you need to be comfortable. Don't forget your book. And your swimsuit, we can hang out at the pool."

Micky looked bewildered and completely taken off guard. "Are you sure, Gabby? Just a couple of nights ago, you were afraid to be alone with me. What's changed?"

"Everything has changed, Micky. We understand each other better, we've made promises to each other to forgive ourselves and trust each other. You've shown me how much you care for me, and I've realized how much you mean to me. I still don't know what's going to happen between us or how fast, but I know I'm ready to move forward now. And right now, what we both need is each other's comfort. Maybe you even more than me. You need me, and I want to be there for you. Does that sound right? Will you let me do that?"

"Yeah, that's true enough. And I will let you do it. I'm luckier than I ever thought I could be." He reached for Gabby and encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her in for a kiss that was laden with emotion and affection, the type of kiss everyone dreams of having someone to give someday.

"You want to drive your car so that you can get back for practice?"

"Yeah, that makes the most sense."

"Okay, then let's leave the girls here and they can come home when they're ready. You and I can take advantage of a peaceful apartment, which is a rarity."

"Sounds good to me." Micky now managed a gleam in his eye, the first positive sign since his traumatic experience the night before.

"Good to see you smiling, Micky. That's what this is all about. To get that smile back on your face where it belongs. I'm pretty addicted to seeing it, so I'm being selfish."

Micky kissed her cheek and ran up the tornado staircase to gather his stuff, stopping in the bathroom on his way back down to pick up his toothbrush.

"Let's go play house, Gabriella."

"Ooooh, that turns me on when you call me that. That's what you called me that first night. So formal and serious."

Micky grinned and filed that tidbit away for future reference.

They said goodbye to everyone and headed out to the car. Arriving home at Gabby's apartment, Micky suddenly felt shy and awkward, but Gabby sensed this and immediately attempted to put him at ease. She brought him right into her bedroom and asked him if he felt like going swimming.

"Sure, that sounds good. It's a beautiful day."

"Great," she said. "Let's get changed into our swimsuits," and she closed the bedroom door.

Micky gulped and his eyes widened. "You mean together? Both of us?"

"Yeah, together. It's gonna happen eventually. You're going to see me without my clothes on, Micky. And I'm going to see what you look like too. And we're going to want to touch each other. Now seems like a good time to do that, if you want to. We're here, the place is empty, and I want to be close to you. Is that okay with you?"

"Y-y-y-yeah, sure, but Gabby, is it okay if..."

"If what, Micky?"

"If we go slow? I mean, if we don't do everything? I can't fuckin' believe I'm even saying this to you. But now that we're right down to it, now that we're here, I want to do this right. I want to experience everything and appreciate it all. I want to savor it and not rush it and make it count, like it never has before with anyone else. Is that okay with you?"

Gabby moved towards Micky, reached for his neck and pulled his head down towards her mouth. She whispered in his ear "It's more than okay. It's perfect. It's like you're reading my mind. It's like you and I are doing that Star Trek mind meld thing."

Micky giggled and said "I didn't know you were a Trekkie!"

She leaned back and gave a giggle herself. "Okay, I'm busted. But I'm still not sold on all those sci-fi movies you want me to see. I'm more of a William Shatner fan. He's hot and geeky. Just like you! Plus, I'm really into the fact that they have a woman working on the bridge. I cheer for Uhura every time they show her on the screen."

"You continue to beguile and fascinate me." Micky claimed Gabby's mouth for a kiss and made it a masterpiece. Then she started to lift the hem of Micky's shirt and remove it and he helped her take it off. He reached for hers and they did the same. Then they paused and took each other in, just appreciating and anticipating what was before them.

Gabby reached out and ran her finger around one of his nipples. He hissed a breath in and exhaled it out. "Been wondering what those feel like," Gabby commented. "They're so cute. I about died the first time I saw them at that softball game."

"Are yours cute?"

"No one has ever said so," she said dryly. "I'll let you be the judge."

Micky ran his hands over her shoulders, then slipped her bra straps down and let his fingertips graze her arms. She shivered at the contact and with anticipation. He took one fingertip and pulled the cup of her bra down, took a peek inside, then broke into a smile and looked back up at her through his long lashes.

"Very cute!"

"Glad you think so," she commented, amused.

"I've got more adjectives. There's a Monkees song called _Words_. I've got all the Words."

"I want to hear them, Micky."

Micky reached behind her and unsnapped the bra clasp, then she shimmied out of it.

He took both hands and covered her breasts completely, just holding them and cradling them. Then he ran his hands down them and stretched them away from Gabby's body until they were taut and began to kneed them, feeling their contours and familiarizing himself with their shape, surface and size, which was considerable. He was particularly attentive to the outside curve, where she was most sensitive, and she arched her back and moaned a bit. He moved his hand underneath to another ticklish spot and felt their weight in his hands and lifted them up to caress them there.

Finally, he allowed his thumbs to stray to the center of the target, to her rosy nipples. They were pale pink with red spots in the middle, which began to turn almost purple as he moved his fingers over them and they began to harden. He closed his fingers around them and pinched and tweaked them, pulling them towards him and away from Gabby's body. Again she moaned and arched her back, this time unable to stand still, so she reached for his neck to hold on to and steady herself. He dipped his head down and began to lap at one of her nipples, first with his flat tongue, then with a teasing curved tongue swirling in a circle. His mouth closed around the nipple and he began to suck and pull on it.

Gabby had reached the edge of ecstasy and her legs began to buckle, so Micky picked her up and deposited her on the bed, laying her down on her back. He returned his attention to her breasts, this time switching sides and feasting on the neglected and untouched other one with his mouth while kneading the first one with his hand. As he did so, he edged his knee between her legs and made room for himself there. He wasn't going to touch her with his hand there yet, but he wanted to feel her there with his body, and to let her know he desired her. She could feel the evidence of his desire poking her thigh as he laid his weight on top of her.

After some time, Gabby flipped on top of Micky and took her turn loving on his chest. It was a work of art and she had been looking forward to worshipping and paying tribute to it. She gave attention to each of his almost hairless pink nipples one at a time, licking them, sucking them and then biting them gently, until he was thrashing and moving his head side to side in a frenzy of sensation. She had not known this to be a particularly erogenous zone for men, so this came as a revelation, and she mentioned it to Micky.

"To be honest, no one has ever done that to me, so I never knew either."

"Wow. Well, it's nice to know that there's still uncharted territory for both of us to explore, considering we've both been with other people and have checkered, freaky pasts."

Micky paused now and fixed Gabby with a look that said he had something on his mind that he wanted to ask but was afraid to go there.

Gabby could tell and said "Go ahead, what do you want to know, Micky?"

"Okay, since you invited the question. Dawn said your boyfriend tried to get you to do kinky stuff like sleeping with other women and him at the same time, and then just sleeping with other women so he could watch. Did you actually go through with it?"

Gabby sighed and shuddered and sat up on the bed so that she could give proper eye contact and attention while she gave her answer.

"I was in bed with Nick while he had sex with me and had sex with another woman one time only. He had to pressure me into it, he got me drunk and high in order to agree to it, and I left before it was over, as far as I know. I didn't touch her and I didn't touch them when they were touching each other. So it was basically like being a bystander at the scene of a car crash. When he asked me for another threesome I told him to go fuck himself. When he asked me to have sex with another woman by myself, I left him. Not that I have anything against women having sex with other women. If I wanted to have sex with a woman, I would. It's that he wanted me to put on a sex show for him with another woman so that he could get off. That made me and her sex toys in his eyes. That's when I realized I was just a plaything for him, not even a human being."

"Wow. That's horrifying. Thanks for telling me what really happened and not letting my imagination fill in the blanks."

Gabby fixed Micky with a look of curiosity now that matched the one he had given her. "Can I ask you a question now?"

"Sure, fire away."

"How is it that no woman has ever licked your nipples, if you've banged so many broads?"

Micky looked shocked at Gabby's blunt language and also was surprised at her boldness in reaching back into his seedy past and asking about it.

"Well, you know when we were listening to Mike and Wendy talk about groupies and he was describing why and how they have sex with musicians? How for them it's just a conquest and there's no emotion and he called it 'rough and dirty sex?' Well that's the truth. It happens fast and it's not that great. And even if it's a bit kinky, it's still not aimed at making me feel good. It's about reaching orgasm and that's pretty much it. So usually there's no time spent with loving touches or licks or cuddling or holding or caressing. It's just down and dirty sex. More than half the time the chick is either drunk or high or so preoccupied with getting me or herself off quickly or trying not to muss her hair up that she doesn't even take my shirt off. Looking back on it now, it's pretty disgusting and dehumanizing for both parties. I'm ashamed of myself."

Gabby reached for Micky and held him in a loving embrace and patted and stroked his back.

"Micky, I'm sorry that's what you experienced. It sounds a lot like what Nick did to me. I didn't ask you the question to shame you, I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I know it. No more than me asking you my question. We were just seeking information, insight, truth. We're trying to figure out what happened to us before so that we don't repeat the mistakes of the past and so we can make our present and future better."

"That's exactly it. And it is better already, isn't it?"

"Damn straight, Gabby. You lift me up and give me dignity and feelings I thought I'd never have again, or would have to go into the witness protection program to regain access to. That's why I'm so adamant about doing everything the right way with you. It feels like life and death. Like my soul and sanity are on the line."

"I feel the same way, Micky. I just climbed out of a den of iniquity and never want to go back there again. But I also almost created for myself this vanilla, colorless world where there was no emotion and no satisfaction, and that would have been hell on Earth, too. You came into my life with your tutti frutti swagger and your cute pink nipples and I couldn't resist you because along with those surface attractions you've got substance, integrity, heart and soul. You're everything I've been looking for, waiting for, trying to find."

They embraced each other tenderly and kissed and smiled.

Micky asked "Wanna change into our swimsuits and get some sun?"

"Yes, I do." Gabby wondered what would happen next, but hoped Micky was serious about taking things slow.

Micky's voice got mischievous. "As Mike says, let's get nekkid."

They peeled off the rest of their clothes, admired each other's bodies visually only for a moment, and reached for their swimsuits. They joined hands and exited the bedroom, gathering supplies for a day out at the pool, including drinks, snacks, sunscreen, a radio, their books and sunglasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	19. Chapter 19

Dawn and Wendy came home in time for dinner, which Gabby was making. She wasn't the best cook, but she did tacos pretty decently. She and Micky had hit the market for the ingredients and were now busy assembling everything in bowls on the counter. She had put him to work chopping lettuce, tomatoes and scallions, while she grated cheese and cooked up ground beef with a seasoning packet included in the box of taco shells. The taco shells were in the oven on low heat warming up. They put sour cream on the table for garnish and called it a feast. Dawn had stopped by the liquor store to buy beer and they all sat around the table making a mess of themselves as their taco shells inevitably crumbled under the weight of the food they had stuffed into them. Gabby was passing along stacks of napkins. She liked to call tacos "the meal of many napkins," and she herself was never armed with fewer than three.

Dawn and Wendy offered to clean up the mess and do the dishes, and Micky and Gabby, still in their swimsuits, headed back out to the patio and decided to hit the Jacuzzi. Gabby wanted to discuss what to do about the two rogue Simpsons employees who had made their lives hell that weekend.

"It seems clear," began Gabby in a business-like fashion "that Sally needs to be fired. She assaulted you. In fact, she's lucky you didn't call the cops and have her arrested. Do you agree with me on that?"

"Well, does it matter that she didn't do it on store grounds or in her capacity as a Simpsons employee?"

"No, not at all. She's an at-will employee. We can fire her for any reason at all or no reason whatsoever. She serves at the pleasure of the store. And if she's got a bad character and is adversely affecting employee morale, or if we know she's a fuckin' criminal, then we have every right to fire her. Do you feel like there's a reason not to fire her?"

"Not really. I don't think there's any innocent explanation for what she did. It was an unprovoked attack, plain and simple. And I definitely would be looking over my shoulder all day long, worrying if she was gonna try and corner me in the fiction section or the break room. Not to mention the gossip situation is going to be horrible enough as it is."

"Okay, so that's the easy part. I will tell Paul, our general manager, that she needs to be fired, first thing tomorrow morning when we go into work. You will need to be part of that conversation and unfortunately, you're going to have to tell him your story about what happened. I'm sorry, it's going to be embarrassing and traumatic for you, but he's going to have to hear it straight from you. Okay?"

Micky sighed resignedly. "Okay, I'll do it. I'm gonna have to talk to him anyway, since I was a witness to what Dan did to you. I assume that's the next thing we have to talk about."

"Yeah, that's the second thing. That's trickier, even though it fucking shouldn't be. He tried to assault me and it's only because I know something about self-defense that I was able to fight him off and intimidate him, plus he was too drunk to take me on. If he had been sober and had his wits about him, he'd have been able to overpower me and do God knows what to me in the flash of an eye blink. But the fact is, he never touched me. And the other fact is, I'm a woman and he's a man and it's his word over mine to a certain extent. That makes it trickier. If I try to get him fired, he might tell Paul I'm overreacting and making a big deal over nothing. If there's any chance that I were to ask Paul to fire him and Paul sided with Dan instead of me, my situation would be way worse than if I just kept my mouth shut and did nothing at all. What do you think I should do?"

Micky slapped the water in frustration. "That's bullshit, Gabby! It should make no difference that you're a woman and I'm a man! He came after you! And the fact that he was drunk is no excuse. He laid the groundwork for it the week before at softball by hitting on you when you made it clear you weren't interested and had a boyfriend. He planned it by showing up at the club. He knew what he was gonna do before he even got there, and he knew I couldn't intervene because I was stuck on stage. Here's what I think we need to do. I'm gonna ask the guys to show up at Simpsons to swear on your behalf that Dan was aggressive and tried to assault you and the only reason why you didn't get molested was that he was too falling down drunk to accomplish it. Then it's four men's word against one sorry-ass man's word, and you don't enter into the equation. Do you think that would help?"

Gabby mulled things over. "It might. I hate having to have other people fight my battles for me, particularly men..."

"Gabby, you've got to get over this knee jerk reaction you have towards the gender divide. Our group of friends, we're not men and women, we're friends, we're comrades in arms, just like those folks up in Berkeley who you rallied with about the war. We're here to support you and support each other. There were two assaults this weekend, one on you and one on me, and the gang rallied around in the same fashion for both of us. This is a genderless issue. Please try to see that."

"You're right Micky. I'm just so used to having to fight for my rights as a woman and there's just so much goddamned bias out there. But it's also true that if we're ever going to get anywhere, then we need to include guys in the women's movement. So okay, please call the fellas and ask them if they can get to Simpsons tomorrow by 9 a.m. so we can talk to Paul before the store opens. I know it's a lot to ask and a long drive for them, and I'll understand if they don't want to do it."

"They'll do it. I'm going to go in right now and call them. You wait here. I'll be right back, and then I want to just relax with you and the bubbles." He gave her a kiss and pinched her cheek.

Micky was back in the Jacuzzi in less than five minutes, with a beer in each hand.

"Wow, that didn't take long!"

"I told you, there was nothing much to discuss. All they needed was the address of the store and the time to be there. They're going to do all they can to help keep you safe, Gabby. We all are." He handed her a bottle and clinked his against hers. She smooched Micky on the cheek and he craftily moved his face to the side and claimed her lips with his.

After another beer each and more time in the Jacuzzi, Micky and Gabby were feeling very mellow and ready to turn in for the night. They took turns in the bathroom washing up and getting ready for bed. Gabby had a double bed, which felt as large as an ocean liner compared to Micky's single bed, and she complained that he was too far away from her, so he snuggled next to her and turned to face her and gather her into his arms.

She moved her hands underneath his pajama top, and caressed his flat stomach, following the trail of hair that led from just above his belly button to the waistband of his pants. She stuck her finger in his belly button and wiggled it, which made him giggle.

"Micky, can we have skin on skin and take our tops off? I want to sleep like that with you."

"Sure, babe. That would be outtasight."

They each took off their tops and began to rub their torsos together, just savoring the human contact and not really making it a titillating sensation. Finally, Micky laid on his back cradling Gabby in his arm. She had her head on his chest, her thigh hitched up and curled over his, and one of her breasts resting on his torso, propped up as he stroked it gently, lovingly but not erotically. They drifted off to sleep this way.

* * *

Gabby and Micky had a hasty breakfast of coffee and bagels. Neither of them was all that hungry, both being keyed up for the confrontation ahead about the two errant Simpsons employees.

They met the Monkees at the doors of Simpsons at a few minutes to nine, and Gabby opened the door with her keys, ushering them into the employee break room. "I'll be with you guys in a moment. I just want to check in with my boss first."

She went to make sure Paul was at his desk and found him scanning the books checking over the previous day's takings. "Paul, Micky and I have something serious we need to speak to you about and it can't wait. And we have some folks here who were witness to what happened and they need to be part of the discussion as well. Can I bring them in here?"

Paul looked up at Gabby and looked like she had just shat all over his day and was deeply unhappy about having to deal with "something serious" at this time of the morning. Still, he tried to take his position as manager seriously and agreed "Okay, sure Gabby, bring them in and let's hear what you've got to say."

She and Micky went to the break room and grabbed the guys and brought them into Paul's office. "Paul, these are friends of Micky and myself. They're his bandmates and they were all playing at a couple of concerts this weekend that were attended by Simpsons employees, and at each one, an employee got out of line and attacked Micky and me." She introduced each of the fellas by name and they shook hands with a very surprised and shaken looking Paul.

Gabby briefly narrated the weekend's events chronologically, then she told her story about her encounter with Dan and let Micky give his own version of his story with Sally in the men's room. Paul fidgeted and plucked at the cuff on his shirt as he received the dry recitation of the horrifying events. Neither Gabby nor Micky editorialized about how they felt when they had been attacked. They just described what happened. Then Mike, Davy and Peter affirmed Gabby's version of events with Dan from their view from the stage, and also relayed their observation of Micky's state of mind after the attack in the bathroom.

Now Gabby delivered her ultimate ask. "Paul, neither Micky nor I feel safe working at this store with either Dan or Sally as coworkers, and we think that their behavior was inexcusable and probably criminal. We want you to fire them, and feel you have ample grounds to do so. So what do you plan to do?"

Paul now stood up from his desk and wandered around the office, touching objects and staring off into space. He avoided eye contact with any of the five visitors to his office and cogitated as he ambled around. Then he sat back down with a loud sigh.

"Gabby, there's no question I can fire Sally for manhandling Micky, and I will immediately. But I can't get rid of Don. For one thing, he didn't even lay a hand on you, and like you said, he was drunk and was in no real position to control his actions. For another thing, that magazine section is a pain in my ass. The merchandise turns over really quick and it would take me forever to train someone new and if I get rid of him right now, the orders would pile up and it would be a catastrophe for the business. There was no real harm done, and I think if I get him to apologize to you and promise to stay away from you, that's a clear solution to the problem."

Mike spoke up not as the leader of the band but as a fierce defender of a woman's honor. "So yer sayin', Mister Manager, that as long as a guy don't actually stick his tongue down a lady's throat or his dick in her crotch, then it ain't attempted rape? What are you gonna say next, that Gabby asked for it, that she had it comin'?"

Davy was also blazing mad and stood up to go toe to toe with Paul: "What you're saying is that you think your magazine section is more important to the store than what your assistant manager does and her ability to do it in safety? That keeping the books tidy is more important than the honor and safety of your female employees? How come you're so ready to give that cashier chick the heave ho? It's not like Micky can't defend himself if she backs him up against a bookshelf again. Oh, right, cuz she's a chick and she's dispensable and you'll just get yourself another pretty chick to stand behind the cash register. They're a dime a dozen. But it would take you maybe a week or so to train a monkey to run your magazine stand and that would be too much of an inconvenience to you! You're a prick, you are. A regular weenie wanker. I oughta tear your head off..." Davy started to loom over Paul menacingly.

Gabby could see things were getting out of hand and made a decision. "It's okay, Davy. Stand down. Paul, either you agree to fire Dan, or I'm going to hand in my resignation. What's your decision?"

Paul stood and backed away from Davy, who was crowding his space, then walked around him to try and approach Gabby, but Peter and Mike now stood shoulder to shoulder with her so that he couldn't physically intimidate her. 

"Gabby, I think you're making too big a deal of this. This is the wrong fight to have, the wrong hill to die on..."

Peter took hold of Paul's lapels now and shrieked "Don't you fucking dare use a war metaphor here, while we've got brave brothers dying thousands of miles away from home while you sit here on your ass all cozy in your office avoiding the draft and doing nothing to speak up for them. You know nothing about dying on a hill or anywhere else. And Gabby knows more than you'll ever know about fighting the good fight, for our soldiers and for women's rights and for her right not to be molested and abused when she's going about her daily life."

Paul shook Peter's hands off of him and backed up in fright, but he held his ground. "I'm not going to fire Don. It's totally your own decision to resign, Gabby. Don't put that on me."

"Oh it IS on you, Paul," Gabby declared. "And I'll make sure the store owners know all about this. I'll also be sure to get the word out to folks that Simpsons doesn't care about the safety of its employees. That means I'll be telling the rest of the staff, as well as alerting your customer base, and the rest of the stores in the softball league. You'll be lucky to have a full staff by the end of the week."

She turned towards the door and Pete said "Come on, guys, let's get out of here. The universe is permeated by the odor of turpentine."

Micky looked back over his shoulder and said, somewhat offhandedly and probably redundantly "I quit, too, Paul. Good luck with the softball tournament. Losing becomes you. I'd appreciate it if you'd just mail me my paycheck."

They all filed out of the office and stopped in the fiction department. Micky took a moment to shake Robert's hand and thank him for his fellowship, asking him to please stay in touch and come to another gig. Then as they walked past the information desk, Dan emerged from the magazine closet with a pile of inventory in his arms. Micky turned to Gabby and asked "May I?" and Gabby nodded.

Micky walked over to Dan and said "Bye, Dan!" and punched him square in the jaw, sending the magazines flying up in the air and Dan reeling back until he made contact with the magazine rack, which he then slid to the ground in front of and landed in a heap on the floor. 

Mike walked up to him, bent down and whispered into his face in a menacing voice: "Don't let us see you at another of our gigs unless you want more of the same and then some, ya hear me?" Dan cringed and nodded, rubbing the spot where Micky had nailed him.

As they walked past the cash registers, Sally gave Gabby a triumphant gleam, then she licked her lips and pursed them and winked at Micky. Gabby went up to Sally and said "Little girl, you're a disgrace to your gender and that ought to shame you enough. But in case it doesn't, you should know that Micky thinks you're a sexual predator who oughta be locked up and sentenced to a few years in jail and psychotherapy. He wants nothing to do with you. Your name and picture are going to be posted at the door of the club from now on and the bouncers will have strict instructions to ban you from entering. If you show up with a group of friends, they'll all be banned from entering after they get their pictures snapped for posterity and added to the list. So get used to being _persona non grata_ and go back to washing your hair and watching sitcoms on Saturday nights." Gabby said all of this loud enough for all the cashiers to hear. Micky now ambled over to Gabby and put his arm around her and said "Come on, babe, let's get out of here." Then he kissed her deeply on the mouth to make his point clear and they strolled out the front door with the rest of the Monkees.


	20. Chapter 20

The guys and Gabby found a coffee shop to sit at and regroup and figure out which end was up. Everything had happened so fast. One minute, she and Micky were employed at Simpsons bookstore, and the next minute, they had both resigned in disgust because the manager had allowed Gabby's stalker to remain on staff despite the clear and present danger he posed to her, while simultaneously agreeing to fire Micky's attacker despite the fact that Micky, while upset about having to work with her, could competently physically defend himself from any further improper advances on her part. It was a clear cut case of sexism and a calculus that put dollars and sense above right and wrong, with Gabby coming out the loser, just as she said women almost always did.

Now she spoke up and put an end to the moping. "Okay, guys. We are not going to brood about this. That job wasn't the be-all, end-all. I've needed to get on with my life for a while now, and it was never going to be anything more than a way station while I got my act together while recovering from my breakup with Nick. So, I've done that, with Micky's help. The universe is obviously speeding me on my way to the next phase of my life. I've got much bigger ambitions and plans, as a community organizer, as an activist, and as a leader. That was just a recovery job and now I'm recovered. So let's just shake it off."

"But Gabby," Peter wailed, "what will you do for scratch, what will you live off of? We can't have you living out of garbage cans and becoming homeless."

"Oh, Pete, let's not get all dramatic. I've got some savings, plus I can get another menial job like the bookstore quite easily. Frankly, I was overqualified for that place. If things get desperate, Wendy's been wanting me to work with her at the record store and I could roost there for a bit. But I think what I'd like to do for now is take a little time off and just BE and get started with my real job search. I need to get hooked up with a cause and a group that needs someone with my skills, talents and experience. And frankly, working all those hours at the bookstore was making it hard for me to get on with that quest. I want to find my purpose and get going on it. It's time."

Pete sighed, and nodded. "Okay, as long as you're not going to starve or anything. Cuz I just couldn't bear it and I'd start setting aside some of my extra earnings for you if you ever need it. I want you to let me know if things get bad, okay?"

All the Monkees nodded their heads silently, adding their offer of support to Peter's, hoping to be discreet without embarrassing Gabby.

"Thanks, guys. I'll be okay. In the short-term, what I think this means is that you may be seeing me more, now that I've got some time on my hands, and I hope it means I'll be seeing Micky a whole lot more. Would you like that, Micky?"

"Yeah, babe," said Micky, "it's my dream come true. I've already got a plan. I'll tell you about it later."

"So this not being a practice day, what do y'all want to do? I was thinking it might be nice to show you a part of the coast you might not have seen before that's pretty far out. Have y'all been to Palos Verdes Peninsula? There's a groovy oceanarium there called Marineland.

I'm originally from P.V. and my folks used to take us there when we were kids. We could go there and I could show you around the Hill (that's what we call Palos Verdes) and narrate my youth to you and show you the cliffs and then bring you to the best little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant. I'm not sure what the girls' schedules are, but we can call around and see who's available."

Mike's eyes lit up at the thought of seeing Gabby and Wendy's childhood stomping grounds. He wanted to know more about Wendy's origins and what made her tick. 

"Let's go back to my place and start making some calls and we'll see who's up for a day with the seals and whales and walruses." 

As the plan took its final form, Wendy was at work, but invented a migraine headache so that she could join her friends for this irresistible adventure and headed back to the apartment to meet up with them. Lynda was not as fortunate. The small clothing boutique she worked at was understaffed and couldn't manage without her. She thanked Gabby for the invitation, but said she'd have to pass. Dawn was easy to rope in on the expedition, since Steven was a pushover and was forever in her debt, knowing that she basically ran his business for him most of the time so that he could fart around with his stoner friends and indulge in his various substances of choice. Fortunately, on this day, he was "stone legal," as Mike liked to put it, and was competent to run the store on his own so Dawn could get away with a clear conscience.

They were on the road by eleven, with Wendy in the Monkeemobile helping Mike navigate and facing backwards chatting with Davy who was in the back seat, and Micky was riding shotgun next to Gabby in her car along with Dawn and Peter in the back seat. The two hippie love birds were not all that gregarious today, as Peter seemed to have lovin' on his mind more and more these days and he being a free spirit found nothing distasteful or out of line feeling his girlfriend up in a car occupied by two other people. So Gabby and Micky smiled and took it in stride and chatted between themselves about this and that, with Gabby filling Micky in on what it had been like growing up in Palos Verdes.

"P.V. is a strange place. In a way, I feel like it's like Disneyland. There are some enormous mansions and it's mostly red-tiled roofs and stucco, with all the street names in Spanish. It's like a movie set. It doesn't look at all to me like America. More like Mexico or Monaco or someplace in Italy. The people who live there are stinking rich and almost all white, though these days a few Asian folks are now moving in. For the most part, the main employer in the area is the engineering industry and everyone's got big bucks and important government contracts. They don't pay a lick of attention to their kids and they spoil them with lots of material possessions because they feel guilty about not being there for them in other ways. Then the kids grow up feeling entitled and spoiled and cruel and scary and they run wild in the street with their hair on fire, driving expensive cars their daddies bought them, doing lots of drugs and drinking at unsupervised parties, cutting school to go surfing and the girls go shopping and buy a new outfit every week. I fucking hated living there."

"Wow, Gabby, tell me how you really feel," Micky joked.

"Seriously, Micky. It's an evil place. It's weird, because it's physically the closest thing to paradise you're ever going to see. The palm trees, the landscaping, the ocean, the cliffs, the seagulls and pelicans, there are even peacocks that run wild because some dude introduced them to the area a long time ago. It's like a fantasy but for me it felt like a nightmare. I couldn't wait to leave and whenever I'm there I have to remind myself that it's not real. That there are good people with better values and straighter priorities."

Gabby continued to reflect on her childhood hometown and her experience growing up there. "Wendy was the only good thing ever to come to me from that part of my life, and I thank God every day for her and I know she does for me, too. So I never spend any time regretting where I came from. I also know that my parents didn't raise us in debauchery and materialism like those other parents, and I have a lot of respect for them in that regard, though they did have one thing in common with the other P.V. parents – they didn't pay us much attention. We were just status symbols or pains in their asses. If they didn't have something to brag about us to their friends, then they were busy ignoring us. 

"I was a non-entity when I was growing up. Didn't excel at anything and got pretty much no guidance or attention from my folks. It wasn't until I got to college that I started to bloom and then the attention I did get from my parents was all about avarice and greed. Then they wanted me to keep feeding the beast – they needed more accomplishments, more good things to brag about me to their friends and my dad's business partners for their holiday letter, to make them look like parents of the year. It was a lot of pressure. So when Nick started abusing me, I didn't even break stride. I had to keep my grade point average up, and I had to graduate _magna cum laude_ or I'd be letting my parents down. To be fair, I also wanted those honors for myself, maybe so I could reassure myself I had some self-worth. I think that's part of how he was able to get away with some of the shit he did. I was so used to people pleasing and giving everyone what they expected from me, whether it was reasonable or not, that it never occurred to me until it was too late that I was losing my soul."

"So why are we going to Palos Verdes today, Gabby, if you hate it so much there?" Micky asked her with simple rationality.

"Because I need to face up to my past and see that not all of it was shit. Because I have you in my life now and you can help me see that the world isn't black and white, that there are many hues and colors. Wendy and I had a blast being best friends there, getting silly and, by merely existing, resisting against the PV stereotype of blonde beach bimbo skinny surfer chick that neither one of us measured up to. We forged a bond based initially on insecurity about our bodies and ourselves, but mostly on straight up humor and love. We just had the best time together. So not all of it was shit."

Micky smiled and encouraged her to tell him some of the good stuff she remembered.

"I like to remember the fun and silly things we did. Like we'd go hang out at the cliffs and talk about life as our legs dangled towards the rocks below, we played on the high school softball team together, we'd have sleepovers and she'd con me into making cookies with her and then she'd always fall asleep and leave me with enough batter for three dozen cookies to finish up without her. I taught her how to apply makeup and we shoplifted the cosmetics she picked out from the drugstore together – I kept lookout while she swept it all into her bag. The first day we hung out at the mall together when we were teenyboppers, we got kicked out of nine stores for laughing and causing a ruckus. NINE stores!!! And Marineland, those are fun memories, too. Both my older brother and sister used to work summer jobs there, and I loved going to see the orca whales."

"So you want to share the good and the bad with me?"

"Yeah, Micky. That's what life and love are all about, right? Whomever I eventually plight my troth to will hear me say 'for better or for worse.' I need you to see the best and the worst. I hope you want to see them."

Micky was utterly floored. If he was reading her right, Gabby hadn't said "I love you," but she was telling him she thought him worthy of her love and that they were moving in that direction. He sat back in his seat and murmured "I do."

Gabby didn't miss the double meaning in Micky's response, and smiled to herself. 

* * *

It was a glorious, sunny day in Palos Verdes, which was lucky, Gabby explained, because sometimes the fog would creep off the ocean and enclose the peninsula with a thick cotton ball blanket. The Hill had its own weather system, jutting so far out on the ocean and being right at sea level, and you could never predict what the weather would do. As they climbed out of their cars, Gabby directed their gazes towards the ocean. 

"See those two lumps out there? That's Catalina Island.

Sometimes when the fog descends, you can't even see it's there, so you're lucky to be getting such a good look at it. And speaking of which, take a look over there way over to your right. See those mountains? That's Malibu! It's getting more and more rare to see that view because the smog from cars is getting so bad and the particles in the air block the view, plus again the clouds and haze from the weather out here often covers everything up."

Pete exclaimed "Far out! I'm gonna look for Marineland next time I'm on the beach at home."

They made their way towards the ticket booth and gained entry to the park. They could hear a barking sound, which they began to walk towards. Their ears led them to the edge of a cliff. There, on the rocks below, were dozens of seals sunning themselves on the rocks, chattering and mouthing off to each other, slipping into the water and scampering out again to sunbathe. Davy exhaled a breath of wonder and said "Nevah in me life 'ave I seen anything like it. I'll remember this day forevah. It's one thing to see things in a zoo, but to see them in the wild, just doing their thing, well that's something special."

Gazing down in wonderment at the seals, Davy realized that something was missing from this sublimely perfect moment. He didn't have Lynda there to share it with him. He looked around him and saw his friends holding hands with their beloved girls, and knew that even if Lynda had been there with him, she wouldn't have trusted in the specialness of the moment because she didn't feel the foundation of her relationship with Davy was built on anything solid, that it was constructed on a sand dune that was bound to slide away at any moment. He felt sadness and his gut clenched with a pang of regret which he was well able to distinguish from the hunger pains that he now suffered on a regular basis. The seals began to blur in front of him into a dark mass as the tears sprang to his eyes.

They wandered around and checked the schedule for the various shows featuring the trained animals, including the stars of the park, Orky and Corky the orca whales. In the meantime, they attended shows featuring performing dolphins, who allowed their trainers to ride on their backs and who chattered and warbled in response to their questions in exchange for fish as a reward. They also shot graceful arcs in the air and did dances on their flippers forwards and backwards. They were truly intelligent and talented mammals. There were huge, galumphing walruses with giant yellowing tusks that were willing to shift their huge bulk to raise their flippers or do a slow circle dance in order to receive a snack in return. The seals were the most comical, chasing the trainers around and ganging up on them to steal reward fish out of the waiting buckets without performing their allotted tricks and tasks, then weaving through the trainer's legs and causing him to tip into the pool tanks while they paused to slap their flippers together in applause.

Finally the time came for the main attraction in the largest pool arena, the killer whales. They were magnificent black and white beasts, looking like slick, tuxedoed, majestic balloons suspended in the water. They weren't as agile as the smaller creatures they had seen, but for their size they were surprisingly mobile and able to perform delicate maneuvers. Their main bit of business, however, was to slap the water with their gigantic fins and splash the crowd, soaking them with water. They roamed the perimeter of their tank and managed to drench everyone in the circular arena who was sitting in the first fifteen rows or so, including the Monkees and their friends. Gabby and Wendy knew what was coming, but they stayed mum in order to preserve the frigidly cold and wet surprise from their companions. Much shrieking and laughter ensued, and then the show was over. It was a hot, sunny day and they would dry off in no time.

In deference to Davy's diet predicament, nobody went crazy eating amusement park junk food. They all sat down to a meager lunch of whatever Davy allowed himself and that was it. Fortunately, this being California, there was a fruit stand selling oranges and they enjoyed a refreshing piece of fruit each. 

Wendy was straining at the bit, wanting to show everyone where she and Gabby went to school and their various haunts, so the next stop was their old junior high school on top of the hill. As they got out of their car, ready to mosey around the campus, a sound like a baby crying hit their ears. Mike exclaimed "What in the _world_ is that?" 

Gabby casually replied, "Oh, that's a peacock. We're a couple of blocks away from where a whole flock of them lives. The guy who founded this city was gifted a bunch of peacocks from the guy who settled Catalina Island and they've managed to survive all this time. They're kind of seen as a nuisance these days. They rip up people's gardens and eat their pets' food if they leave it outside and they shit all over everything. We'll take you by that neighborhood and you can see them."

They walked around the open campus a bit, and Wendy pointed out the library where she and Gabby first met. Gabby had been reading _Seventeen_ magazine and Wendy was curious about what she was reading, so she sat down next to her and immediately the first of a lifetime's worth of gigglefests began. 

Wendy explained "We started to meet up every day in the library and pour over those magazines, trying to figure out how to be stylish and popular. We'd read them again and again, like they were the Rosetta stone or something. And we'd talk and laugh and just get so silly. It got so out of hand that the librarian – we used to call her 'the old grey mare' because she had grey hair and looked like a horse – kicked us out and banned us from entering the library for two weeks. I think we added to her grey hair inventory a lot." She and Gabby exchanged fond looks of remembrance and hugged. 

They got back in their cars and drove by some fancy houses where the peacocks tended to congregate. Sure enough, there were a couple on a rooftop, and another one casually strolling through the street as if he owned the joint. It was a big male, with magnificent plumage in colors of teal, royal blue, green and black. There were also greyish brown pea hens sitting on the side of the road pecking away at unseen insects or other sources of nutrition. Micky now understood why Gabby said that being in P.V. was like visiting Disneyland. It had an unreal, almost surreal quality to it.

They cut back down the hill towards the high school that Wendy and Gabby had attended, which was located literally right across the street from the cliffs. The guys and Dawn were in awe of this sweet setup. 

Wendy pointed across the street and said "Yeah, on our lunch break, Gabby and I would escape the snooty girls and the dumb surfer dudes and go hang out at our secret ledge on the cliffs. Come on, let me show you!"

She dashed across the street and through a field of dry wild fennel and tumble weeds. At the cliff's edge, there was a steep drop-off and then another level of dirt about three feet down where a couple or maybe three people could comfortably sit and hang out unobserved. Mike, who was afraid of heights, began to back away giddily, stumbling a bit and gasping for breath. 

Wendy frowned and reached for him to comfort him. "Oh, Mikey, I'm sorry, I didn't realize this would upset you. I guess this is the kind of thing that I take for granted because I grew up with it. You don't have to go down there."

Peter peered over the edge, then turned to Dawn, remarking "Looks like a great place to make out." Dawn rolled her eyes a bit but conceded that Pete had a point. This then caught the resident Casanova's attention, and Davy strode up to the edge and surveyed the scene. "Nah, too lumpy and rocky. I like my lovin' on a nice soft bed."

Gabby surprised everyone by saying "It's definitely a good make out spot. I can vouch for that."

Micky's head swiveled towards her and he inquired "Oh, do tell."

"Mmmmm, wouldn't you like to know?" Gabby teased.

"Yes I would, little girl," Micky coerced her, as he encircled her in his arms and started to tickle her under her chin.

"Okay, well, it was a guy from my math class who was really more of a friend. He had a great makeout car, this huge Chevy, but we had already gotten busted once by the fuzz for parking on top of one of the deserted hills and we weren't even doing anything but sitting there talking, thank God. So we decided that when we did want to get busy, we would come here instead. And for the record, Davy, when you're 17 and horny, you don't get too picky about sheet thread count and comfort. Privacy is about the only thing that's at a premium at that age."

Micky sighed in an exaggerated exasperated manner and said "It still is and we're all in our twenties now! Speaking of which . . . "

He put his arm around Gabby, walking her away from the rest of the group. They strolled further up the cliff line.

"Gabby, I was thinking, it would be nice if we got away, just the two of us. What do you think?"

"That sounds really heavenly, Micky, especially now that I happen to be at a loose end and have no place to be on a daily basis. We've barely had time to really get to know each other and be alone. But what about your practices?"

"To tell you the truth, we're barely practicing at all these days. Davy wouldn't want me to tell you this, but he's hanging on by the skin of his teeth. He's exhausted and he's literally starving and his body is consuming its own flesh for energy. Besides which, you and I have both been through a horrendous couple of days, so I don't think the guys would mind if we took the next couple of days for ourselves and got out of town."

"Where do you want to go, and how can we afford it? I need to watch my budget now that I'm out of work."

"Don't worry about the money. I've got it covered. I was thinking we could just drive up the coast and when we find place we like we'll stop there and stay at some cheapo place for a couple of nights. Unless there's someplace you really like that you want to go to."

"No, I like the idea of getting lost with you and just letting the wind take us where it will. Speaking of wind, do you think Mike would let us take the Monkeemobile so we could ride in it with the top down? I've never done that before."

"I'll ask him. The car really belongs to all four of us, even though he's like Papa Bear with that car. When we were broke and starving musicians, we all chipped in to buy it and soup it up, but Mike did all the custom work and does most of our repairs, so he feels very protective of it. I don't see why the guys can't get along with the shit kicker for a couple of days so that you and I can get away with some style. So can we go tomorrow?"

"Sure, that sounds great!"

"Cool. I'm so happy!" Micky looked like a little boy on Christmas Eve. "You're my everything," he sighed and hugged her.

They finished tooling around Palos Verdes, cruising past the houses where Wendy and Gabby's families had once lived, plus a few more scenic views not to be missed. Then they took the steep, winding hill road down to Torrance Beach, where they spent the late afternoon watching the waves break on the sand and walking along The Strand. The Strand was a cement path that reached from the beginning of the strip of beach that started where Palos Verdes' more wild and natural beach ended and continued past Redondo Beach's King Harbor Pier, Hermosa Beach's Esplanade, Manhattan Beach, Marina Del Rey, and all the way eventually to Venice Beach and Santa Monica.

When the sun began to get lower in the sky, they walked up Avenue I in a neighborhood called The Riviera to Casa Pulido, a homey little Mexican restaurant run by a mom and pop that served excellent and affordable grub. Davy treated himself to a halfway decent meal, and the rest indulged in the full enchilada, so to speak, of limitless baskets of chips and salsa, and combination plates with entrees, rice and beans, and guacamole. As they exited the restaurant, they thanked the owners, Ruben and Bashie "Momma" Pulido, and promised to come back again soon. 

When they got home, Micky and Gabby changed for bed and were tired from the day, but there was a zing of electricity rocketing around her bedroom that was palpable and they both felt it. In fact, Gabby mused, it seemed almost pointless to have put pajamas on, because she knew they would be taking them off. She started by removing Micky's top, unbuttoning it one by one and sliding the fabric off his slim shoulders. Then he slid the straps of her tank top down and kissed her shoulders until she ripped the whole top off in one go over her head. 

She dove in for a passionate kiss on his mouth. That kiss evolved into a journey down to his nipples, an obsession with her, and he rocked back and forth and twitched as she lapped at them with her tongue and teased him by hesitating and then dive bombing him without letting him know when the next contact was coming. Now he growled and reached for her arms to ease her down on the bed and he kissed her breasts in a circle all around the perimeter, teasing _her_ in his own special way, until she was panting with need for him to take her nipples into his mouth.

"Micky, please..." she requested, moaning.

"You said you'd ask for what you wanted, so just so I'm sure, what is it you want, Gabby, hmmmm?" Micky taunted her.

"Lick my nipples. Suck them. Bite them. Claim them."

"It will be my pleasure, Gabriella."

"Ohhhhhh," Gabby moaned as she reacted not only to the sensation of Micky's mouth finally hitting the mark, but the sound of him calling her Gabriella, the name he used that first night when he was trying to seduce her and failing so miserably. For some reason, remembering the contrast between then and now through the use of her full name made her hot for Micky and proud of how far they had come.

Micky started to inch his way down her torso, kissing the underside of her breasts and licking them until they were slick with his saliva, then he planted a series of kisses down the middle of her stomach until he reached her belly button. When he got there, he inserted his tongue and she began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Ticklith?" he asked, with his tongue still stuck in her belly button.

"Yeah, wickedly so. I can't help it. But do carry on. I love it."

"Let me see where else you're sensitive," he offered.

He started to roll down her pajama pants, under which she was wearing nothing, he was pleased to discover. He had them down to just above her pubic bone, then he looked up at her to assess her reaction. She nodded at him and said "It's okay, Columbus. Continue to explore my new world."

Micky laughed and swiped his dry lips over and over across the area he had already uncovered, pausing at her hip bones and the dimples beneath and on either side of them to plant gentle kisses here and there, and to rub his cheeks and his nose on her velvety skin.

Then he looked her in the eye once more, took a deep breath and pulled her pants down and completely off. He stilled his motions now, and just gazed at what he saw. She parted her legs to give him a better view and once again his head snapped up so that he could look her in the eye. She nodded at him and smiled her consent.

His fingers explored all her crevices and folds gently, not seeking to stimulate her as much to introduce themselves to her. Then he moved his hands to her hips and backside and gave those a feel with his palms splayed wide, taking hold of her and gripping her firmly and running his hands all the way down her legs. He apparently was satisfied that he had explored her nether regions thoroughly, and he moved back up so his face was level with hers and began to kiss her again. She realized that was as far as he was going to go for now, and she was in awe of his patience and self-discipline, his reverence for the process and appreciation for the sacredness of the physical intimacy dance when performed between two people who really care about each other and want it to count for something involving the heart and soul. 

Now she rolled Micky on top of her and ran her hands up and down his back, then down his pajama pants and over his ass. He jumped a bit at her boldness and also with the pleasure of her touch. She noticed that for a skinny guy, he had a gloriously rounded, firm behind and commented on it to him. Micky cracked up and thanked her for the compliment. 

"Can I see it?"

"Uh, sure, have at it."

She rolled him over on his stomach and pulled his pajama pants off. Then she kissed each butt cheek and ran her hands over each perfectly formed mound over and over. "Mmmmm, perfect. Luscious. You know how Dawn calls Peter 'Sweet Pete'? I'm going to have to call you 'Sweet Cheeks.'" She giggled and Micky covered his eyes, a bit embarrassed but flattered nonetheless.

"You ready to turn over and let me see the rest of your glory, Micky?"

"Yeah, but before I do, Gabby, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure Micky. What can I do for you?"

"Leave something for next time. In fact, leave everything for next time or other next times. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's perfect."

Now he turned over and she did her own version of a get-to-know you session with Micky's body. He had a dark trail of hair from his belly button down to his penis. She raked her fingers through the hair, combing back and forth like she was scratching a puppy behind its ears. She allowed her hand to gently stroke Micky's shaft for a moment and slid her thumb across the head just to say 'Hello, how do you do?' She did the same with his balls and even gave a gentle greeting to his puckered hole with a scritcha scratcha of her fingernail, which made him giggle. 

Now she got down to business with a firm grip to his thighs, sliding her hands up and down repeatedly. They were thin but muscular and she could not get enough of touching them, again and again and again. Then she lifted his leg up to her shoulder so that she could knead his calf muscles, one leg at a time, then rested them back down on the bed. Then she gave each foot a gentle massage and kissed each big toe. She finished the circuit of his body by moving back up to his torso and stroking his arms, pausing at the biceps and feeling the taut muscles there and then stroking the hair under his arms.

Feeling that she now knew pretty much every inch of Micky's body, she sighed with gratification and laid down next to him. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Dolenz."

"I'm happy to know you, too, Gabriella."

They pulled the blanket over them and entwined their legs with each other's, each lost in thought about what they had both seen and done. 

"That was nice, Micky. I know that's not adequate or eloquent enough to describe it, but if I can only have one other word to describe it, I'll say perfect."

"I feel the same, Gabby." He kissed the top of her head and stroked her sleek cap of hair, following its line down her cheek. 

"Goodnight, my Micky."

"I'm yours. You're mine. That's a dream come true. You're my everything."

"Yes. I'll see you in my dreams in a little while."

She kissed him goodnight and settled in to drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	21. Chapter 21

This time it was Gabby's turn to pack a bag. She told the girls she was taking off with Micky for a couple of days. Micky was lounging out by the pool waiting for her, while the girls grabbed a few minutes' worth of gossip.

"Where are you guys going?" Wendy, ever the hopeless romantic, was excited and wanted all the details.

"I don't know. Micky's going to just pick a direction to drive in and we'll decide when we get there. This being California, it will be somewhere on the coast." 

"That's so cool, Gabby," marveled Dawn. "I'm so happy for both of you. Micky's a good guy. I felt that all along. He was just in need of a good woman to set him right."

"I think we both needed a guide back to the path of health, Dawn," corrected Gabby.

"Yeah, well, whatever, I'm just glad you're happy. You both deserve it, and it makes me smile just watching you two."

"You watch us? That's kind of creepy, Dawn."

"It's just a figure of speech, Gabby. Jeez!"

"Just funnin' you, Dawn. And speaking of not watching you, did you and Pete have a good time in the back seat yesterday?"

"Well, yeah. Sorry about that. I seem to have unleashed an unquenchable thirst in Pete, now that he's gotten a taste of the good life."

"No big deal. I think it's nice that Peter has found his heart's desire in you. And Mike's got his heart's desire in you, Wendy."

"Yeah, I just hope he doesn't hit the roof when I break some news to him I've got to tell him."

"What's up?" Gabby was alarmed. "You're not knocked up are you, you bird brain? I told you to get yourself on the pill, Wendy. Didn't you take care of that?"

"Hold up, hold up, I'm cool on that. No, it has nothing to do with my sex life. I got an offer at the record store that I think is too good to pass up, so I said yes and I don't think Mike's going to be cool with it."

Wendy worked at Wallichs Music City, a record store located at the corner of Sunset & Vine in Hollywood, the nexus of the music business and a mecca for music acts from all over the country. Any group that wanted to promote its latest record stopped by the store to make a personal appearance.

"Buffalo Springfield came in yesterday to promote their latest album and I got to meet them. Well, we got to talking and it turns out they've got a spot for a roadie when they do their set at the Monterey Pop Festival in June. They invited me to fill the spot. They said I had spunk and they were down for the cause of advancing women in the music business when I mentioned to them that I was trying to get into the management side of the biz. So I told them I'd do it."

Dawn cheered and cried "Rock on, Wendy! Good for you!"

Gabby was less sanguine. "You mean you took the gig without even consulting Mike? I think that's gonna piss him off even if he could get on board with you doing the roadie thing, which I can't see him doing because he's an old-fashioned southern gentleman who thinks you're a fragile lil' woman to be cherished and protected."

"Now come on, Gabby, if it were any other guy, you'd be up in arms calling him a chauvinist pig!"

"That's not fair, Wendy, I judge every case on an individual basis. I don't generalize. I wouldn't have become friends with Micky if I ruled out being friends with chauvinist pigs!"

Dawn and Wendy started cracking up at the ridiculousness of _that_ statement.

"Okay, okay, but it's true! That first night we met, I told him he could continue on with his groupie lifestyle and we could be friends anyway. I just told him he had to stop hitting on me."

"Hmph. That's one way to work the reverse psychology," Dawn mused.

"Let's get back to the subject at hand. We are talking about Wendy and the impending explosion from our Texan hothead. What are we going to do about that? Or don't we care?"

"We care, we care!" yelped Dawn.

"Okay, well, Wendy, what are you going to tell Mike and when are you going to tell him?"

Wendy shrugged her shoulders and turtled her head down into them until she looked like Cecil the Turtle from the Looney Tunes cartoon.

"Well, I kind of thought I _wouldn't_ tell him until it was too late for him to do anything about it, like right before the concert and I was packing up to leave." 

"That doesn't sound like a winning formula, Wendy. Think again," Gabby commented.

"Okay. I'll tell him. But I'm not backing down. I'm going and that's that." Wendy put her hands on her hips and looked every inch the nickname that Gabby had given her 'round about the age of 16 – the Maverick. She got that name when Wendy had gotten her driver's license and started skipping school and sneaking out of the house and driving on the freeway to go visit friends who lived in the city, despite her parents forbidding her to do so. It stuck when she turned 16 ½ and discovered pot and started smoking it despite Gabby's misgivings about it. And she still sported it when she turned 20 and she helped a guy she knew finance a drug deal because it seemed like an easy way to make a quick buck.

"Okay, well I've got to go. Please take care of yourself while I'm gone. And do me another favor and reach out to Lynda. She needs you guys. Ask her over or go out dancing with her and Davy and help her get a break from his starving, cranky ass. I love him but it's got to be a chore being his girlfriend right about now."

"No doubt," Dawn agreed. "We'll get in touch with her."

"Okay, chicks. I'm off." Gabby gave them hugs and headed out.

* * *

Gabby handed over her keys to Mike and said "Feel free to use my wheels while we're away, Mike. And thanks for letting us take the Monkeemobile. I'm excited to ride with the top down."

Mike smiled down at her. "Yeah, chicks dig that car. I appreciate your leaving your car with us. We might end up needing it."

Micky slid down the twisting bannister and let the momentum propel him into Gabby's arms, giving her a hug. "Ready to go?"

"You bet! I'm excited." Gabby shivered a bit with anticipation.

"Okay, guys. We're off."

"Mick, I know this is a spontaneous, romantic trip and y'all want your privacy, but just be safe and give us a call to let us know where you end up. Will ya do that for us?" Mike, ever the leader and worrier and all around den father was used to keeping a close eye on his brood.

"Sure Mike. We'll check in once we land somewhere."

Peter stuck his head out from his bedroom door and called "Bye Micky, have fun, Gabby!"

Davy was just jogging up from the road as they were climbing into the car and he shouted "Oy, glad I caught you before you left. 'ave fun! Take care of our boy, Gabby!"

"I will, Davy. And he'll take care of me."

Micky turned to Gabby and inquired "North or south?"

Gabby debated "Well, we just did south, so how about north?"

Micky agreed "Sounds well-reasoned. North it is."

"Let's try to stay on the ocean road as much as we can, Micky. I don't care if it's not the fastest."

"That's fine with me. I'm hoping we can make it as far as Carmel. Have you been there? It's beautiful."

"No, I've never been there. Have you?"

My folks took me on a family vacation up and down the coast when I was a kid and we drove through it but never stopped there. Even when I was a kid I thought to myself, boy is this a romantic place!" 

"I think we've both been starved of romance, Micky."

"That's what Peter says. That he was starved of romance before he met Dawn. I think that's the human condition until you meet the right person. That's probably why we're so desperately on the hunt for it. And maybe why we do such stupid things trying to find it and we settle for things that are less than romantic, because we think we'll never find the real thing so we may as well just take what we can get."

"That's depressing, Micky, but you're probably right. Maybe Peter had the right idea all along. Celibacy until he found the right one. I like how things are with you and me now. Walk before we run. Baby steps. Enjoy the journey."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I've been aiming for. It's weird and totally not the way I've ever gone about things. It's pretty much a 180 from how I've been living my life. But if I've learned anything from my recent experiences, it's that I wasn't happy and I wasn't really living. I was just cruising and selling myself incredibly short and cheaply. And I want more out of life than that. And then you came along and showed me that life had more to offer me than that if I could just be patient and constant. If I could go back to being the guy I know I really am. I feel like I woke up from a trance or a nightmare and now I'm all pink and healthy again."

Gabby had a feeling of déjà vu. "I feel like you just entered my head and spoke my thoughts. Nick, he was diseased and he infected my whole being. He wasn't my first, but he was my first man, if you know what I mean. The guys I was with before were just boys. Real immature, puppy love, premature ejaculator type guys. I decided I wasn't going to give it away anymore. I was going to wait for a real man who loved me to come along. And that was Nick. He was commanding and strong and almost a cult-like personality. He could walk into a room and it would go silent. Everyone would sit up and take notice. And all the women around him wanted him and he chose me without me even pursuing him. So of course I felt special when he told me he wanted me and he loved me. I didn't realize he was conning me, siphoning off my spirit like a vampire. I thought hey, I'm at college, I'm an adult, I have agency over my body, I'm a respected leader of a political organization, people listen to what I have to say, I'm making a difference in the world, I'm making good grades in school, I'm on course to graduate with honors, blah blah blah. It didn't amount to a hill of beans! I was like a little rag doll he was just manipulating and playing with." 

Gabby twisted her fingers uncomfortably and stared into her lap, unable at this point to look Micky in the eye. "I'm not saying I was a victim and you should feel sorry for me. I'm saying I was in over my head and didn't even know what was going on. Once I figured it out, I walked away, but the damage was done. Then I spent months trying to heal and I'm still trying to figure out how I let it happen. But then you came along and the process has sped up so much I can barely remember how it felt to be so damaged and distraught."

Micky reached for her hands and tried to still her distressed fidgeting as he drove. "Gabby, I think you're being too hard on yourself. It may be hard or impossible for you to acknowledge yourself as a victim, and it's fine if your system rejects that label. You don't have to be part of that community if you can't stand the thought of it. But you did get played and you didn't ask for what happened to you. No one asks for abuse. That's what you told me after Sally groped me in the bathroom. So either you were shining me on or you need to walk your talk." Micky challenged her with a stern look before he transferred his gaze back to the road.

Gabby took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the headrest. "Whoa, Micky, I guess you're right. I've got my head in the sand on that one. I guess the truth is I absolutely do not want to be part of yet another disadvantaged group that needs pity. It's bad enough being a woman in a man's world. I've already got one strike against me as soon as I walk in a room. I'm getting judged as less-than because I've got a pair of tits instead of testicles. The last thing I need is someone pitying me because I fell for a snake oil salesman's pitch and let myself get exploited for sex and flattery and hero worship and whatever it is I had that Nick wanted. You don't pity me, do you? I would hate that."

"No, I don't pity you. I mean, I hate that it happened to you, and if I ever met that guy, I'd beat him to a pulp for what he put you through. But no, I don't think less of you or think you're weak or a pitiable or pathetic person. It's pretty much the opposite. I think you kick ass. You survived it and overcame it. You walked away. You told him to go fuck himself and left him and you got out alive and in one piece. He didn't hit you, did he?"

"No, all the injuries are emotional and mental, though I do feel like the sexual stuff was a physical type of abuse."

"So as far as anyone else knew, you just left him because he was a piece of shit. No one has to know what really happened. This is nobody's business but yours unless you want to share it with someone. Have you ever thought about talking to a shrink about it?"

"Fuck no! This isn't that kind of problem!"

"What do you mean, Gabby? It's got you all twisted up inside and you still don't have all the answers you're looking for. You're still running away and looking over your shoulder. This isn't a one-time nightmare like what happened to me in the bathroom. This happened to you again and again over the course of a long period of time. Maybe it would help if you could talk to someone about it. I know you don't want to man the barricades and start a movement for this, and you don't have to. There are other people who can do that. You don't have to carry the weight for every cause. There are other causes that need you. And you don't have to go out and join a group therapy and share your business with a bunch of other women who've been through the same thing. You're a private person, I get that. You don't even have to share the details with me if you don't want to. But you do need to take care of yourself. You need to be healthy. And I need you to be healthy. I want you to be healthy and happy. Just think about it and don't make any absolutely-fuck-no pronouncements about anything about it, okay? Please?"

Gabby took a long breath and then exhaled. She looked out the window and a tear ran down her cheek. She dashed it away with her finger but another one followed and soon she couldn't hide her distress and emotions from Micky, even though his eyes were mostly on the road. 

"Okay, Micky. At this point, I think you're seeing my situation more clearly than I am, and I trust your judgment, particularly because of what you've been through yourself. If it were any other guy, I'd tell him he had no clue what he was talking about and to fuck off. And if it were any other girl, I'd tell her to walk a mile in my shoes before she opened her big fat trap. But it's you, and that counts for a lot. I'm not promising anything, other than I promise to give it serious thought."

"That's my girl. You're my everything, Gabby."

"I know. Keep telling me that. It's good to hear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	22. Chapter 22

They drove in silence for a bit and listened to the radio. Micky decided they needed to turn the page and get onto a neutral topic that wasn't so heavy, so he decided to probe further into the details of Gabby's life that he was curious about.

"So I want to hear more about college. Tell me about the classes you liked the most."

"Hmph. You'll probably think I'm shallow, but they aren't the ones that were really part of the core curriculum for my degree. I mean, those politics classes were important, and the really advanced literature classes were challenging and blew my mind, but each semester I tried to take at least one class that was a bit off-beat and maybe a little easier to get a good grade at, too, just to help my grade point average and to balance out my stress level.

"So for instance, I took a really fun literature class that was the literature of detective stories. We got to read Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle – you know, Sherlock Holmes – and various genres of detective fiction like noir, detective procedurals and even some that were made into movies. I loved reading _Double Indemnity_ by James M. Cain. That's a fabulous noir movie with Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray with Edward G. Robinson. Have you seen that one?"

"Oh, yeah, that's a classic! And I know you love Agatha Christie, because I've seen you gobbling those up every free moment you get."

"Yeah, I started reading her books at the same time that Wendy and I became friends. We also read _The Purloined Letter_ by Edgar Allen Poe, which is considered the first detective story. That's where the solution to the mystery is hidden in plain sight. So clever. I would say mysteries are to me what science fiction novels are to you. They're my sweet spot."

"So what was another of the classes you loved?"

"My next favorite class was a total gas. It didn't even really feel like a class. It was called The History of Humor. Every week we would watch a classic humor movie, starting with the silent films, and we'd analyze the social impact and its significance and hidden messages in it. So like Charlie Chaplin's _Modern Times_ was about the Industrial Revolution and its dehumanizing and poverty-creating denigration of the human condition. We also watched Marx Brothers movies, which were a total revelation to me."

Micky slapped the steering wheel. "Oh, man, for someone to have me sit down and watch one of those movies and call it higher education sounds like a dream come true! I'm a huge Marx Brothers movie fan! Sometimes people see the ridiculous situations we Monkees get into and compare us to them."

"I can just imagine," Gabby rolled her eyes.

"Well speaking of Charlie Chaplin, there's a place I want to stop that has a connection to him. I thought we could catch lunch there if we make decent time. It's a hotel in Montecito, a really pretty coastal town near Santa Barbara. He used to own the hotel. It's called the Montecito Inn. I doubt we could afford to sleep there, but we can check it out and walk around. You might have noticed I'm a huge movie buff."

"I hope you've noticed that I am, too, Micky. Just different types of movies than you."

"Yeah, between us we have a fairly broad range of movie tastes. Let's talk about that next. What do you like the best?"

"I love the Sherlock Holmes movies they made in the 1940s, with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. They are the quintessential Homes and Watson. Like I mentioned before, I like the pre-Production Code naughty movies with stars like Norma Shearer, Chester Morris, Jean Harlow, Clark Gable and Joan Crawford. I love noir movies, be they detective or just love stories. Bette Davis is a huge heroine in my eyes. She's such a tough cookie. She's fought the studio system so hard to get good parts and not get stuffed into a box by the male movie executives who wanted to control her fate. I'm also sweet on Audrey Hepburn. She's so stylish and her own person. And Alfred Hitchcock. I'll see anything he directs. What about you?"

"Like I said before, I love the Marx Brothers, and I also like the Three Stooges, though they aren't really movies since they show them on T.V. now, but I just love slapstick humor. I'm big on war pictures, particularly now that I have a cousin over in Vietnam."

"Wow, Micky, you've never said! I want to hear more about the movies you love, but can I hear about him? What's his name, how old is he, are you close to him, how long has he been there? What's his story?"

"His name is George Dolenz, like me. My full name is George Michael Dolenz. I'm a Junior, named after my dad. His father is my dad's brother and so he was named George in honor of my dad. He's 20. He's been there for six months. We write as often as we can, but so far it's only been a few letters from him. They take a long time to get here, and usually they're pretty heavily censored. He's a marine and I can't honestly tell you much of what he does or what is happening to him, partly because he's not allowed to say and partly because I think he doesn't want to worry me or share it because it upsets him so much. So his letters mostly are about recalling good memories he has of us growing up together, doing fun things like swimming in his family's pool and riding dirt bikes and building forts and teasing my sisters."

"Does he have an end date for this tour of duty?"

"If he does, I guess I'm not allowed to know when it is, because he hasn't said."

"Does he have siblings, or a girl waiting here at home for him?"

"Yeah, he's got both. Two younger brothers, one who's almost draft age. His family is terrified his younger brother will be called up next. Then he's got a younger sister. The motorcycle I'm restoring was something we bought together and was supposed to be for the two of us to ride around on, and I'm hoping when he gets back we'll get to have some fun on it."

"Let's keep him in our prayers and tell the gals and guys about him, Micky. We need to have positive vibes out there for him. Or do the guys already know about him?"

"No, I haven't mentioned him. I don't like to bring everybody down. It's such a personal thing, plus I don't know how George would feel about it. And now with Davy going through what he's experiencing, I think it would be a bad idea to mention it. So can we just keep it to ourselves?"

"Sure, Micky. You're right. Not everything is a symbol of a wider cause. I forget sometimes that there are individual stories behind every societal ill. I mean, look at me, hiding out from telling the world about me and Nick, not wanting to offer others any of my experience, strength or hope on the subject. I just want to tuck my tail between my legs and go lick my wounds in a corner. Okay, I'll zip it and won't even mention it to the girls, despite the usual girls' code that everything's fair game for gossip." She smiled at him with a self-deprecating grin.

"Thanks, babe. I appreciate it. So can I ask you another question? This is a fairly basic one, and I'm embarrassed I don't know it, and in the big scheme of things it's a small detail and doesn't mean much, but I really ought to know the answer."

"Sure Micky, I can't wait to hear this question."

"What is your last name?"

They both broke into fits of giggles. One would stop but the other would begin again and the other would catch the contagious impulse and begin to howl again and the rolling laughter would circle back around.

"Oh, Micky, you are just too funny," sighed Gabby as she wiped the tears streaming from her eyes. "My last name is Levitt."

"So that's good to know. You just never know when that will come in handy. I mean, what if we end up on 'This Is Your Life' and I don't know your last name?"

"There's a twisted but reasonable logic there, Dolenz. Anything else obvious you want to know about me?"

"Well, there are now so many personal things I know about you, like the fact that you have an "inny" belly button, and I feel so blessed and lucky to have that little tidbit tucked in my back pocket. Hmmm, what do I want to know? What's your favorite Monkees tune?"

"Wow, that's tough. I mostly like the ones you and Mike sing the best. No offense to Davy, but he's not my cup of tea. Too Broadway and soppy, though he has incredible personality when he sings. Of your songs, I like _Sometime in the Morning_ , as you know, and then I think _Goin' Down_ is pretty much the most amazing tour de force I've ever heard anyone sing ever. You're so smooth and you've got so many words to sing and you just don't break stride or run out of breath and brother, you've got soul for a white dude! So that's you. For Mike, I love his _Nine Times Blue_ and _Propinquity_ songs, but you guys don't play those at gigs much because those are really more solo pieces for him, I've just heard him playing them on his own like that day when we were hanging out at the beach. I think _Door Into Summer_ is his best song, with _Sunny Girlfriend_ a close second. In terms of Peter, I really like his song _Tear the Top Right Off My Head_ and it sounds really nice when he sings it, even though he gave it to you to sing. I know y'all think he doesn't have a very strong voice, and maybe he doesn't, but I think part of his problem is confidence and part of his problem is chemical. He needs to stay sober and maybe his singing would improve. You just can't sing and partake at the same time. I've been a shower/walking on the street to school type singer all my life and this I know. When I had my first drinks at college and tried to sing, it was a disaster."

"Yeah, I think you're right about Peter. I think maybe he imbibes because he's got such low self-esteem about his singing. In any case, he's probably the most talented musician among the four of us. He plays more than a half-dozen instruments and is the only one of us with formal musical training. He's a prodigy and we're incredibly lucky to have him as part of the group. He's written some groovy songs, too."

"I think you all have multiple talents that add tremendously to the whole. I've seen you playing the guitar and the drums and the bongos and even noodling around on Peter's keyboard and Davy's tambourine. And Davy knows the drums and told me Peter taught him the bass and he also knows how to play guitar. And Michael writes most of your songs. Y'all are a pretty incredible group of musicians. I hope you get your big break soon."

"Well, it could be happening sooner than later. We got an invitation to be backstage at the Monterey Pop Festival in June and we have it written into our Cornwall's contract that we can have that weekend off. So we're hoping we'll be able to make some connections with some of the musical acts and the agents, recording executives and talent scouts who tend to hang out at those places, and maybe even get to jam with some of the acts."

"Micky, that's incredible! I can't believe you guys will be there! That's such a relief!!!"

"Why's that? I didn't know you had even heard of the Festival."

Gabby now realized she had said too much and debated with whether to spill the beans about Wendy or not. She knew her first responsibility should be to her oldest and dearest girlfriend, but she also know that her friend was about to make a hash out of her relationship with Mike and that this piece of news could save the situation. Furthermore, she was entering a new phase of her relationship with Micky where honesty and commitment needed to supersede all other of her life's priorities, didn't it? Or did it? She honestly wasn't sure what the etiquette or pecking order of priorities was here. She decided to stay mum for now.

"I just mean that knowing that you guys are on your way up and looking out for your next big break makes me so happy!"

"Yeah, well, we made a connection with one of the bands because Peter was friendly with a member of one of them, going back to the days when he used to be an itinerant musician in New York's East Village with one of those guys who ended up hitting the big time and hasn't forgotten where he came from. He invited Pete to be his guest and Pete told him he was part of the Monkees now and asked if the whole band could join him and he got the thumbs up. So we're gonna be traveling in kind of humble style, but we'll be mingling with the elite. It's gonna be a gas. Maybe if you're still kicking around with no job and you're still enamored of me and my irresistible personality, you'd like to come with us?" Micky's voice held a tentative note, given that the festival was more than a month away.

"I'd love to be there with you, assuming you still find me as alluring as you do now and this long drive doesn't reveal any unpleasant facets of my personality that prompts you to leave me stranded on the side of the road." Gabby also felt uneasy about committing to anything so far in the future, not because she didn't want to be with Micky, but because she felt insecure about her own standing with him.

"Gabby, sounds like we're both iffy because we don't want to jinx things, not because we don't like the sound of the idea. So we can just put it on the back burner and wait and see what happens. But I'll tell you right now, I want you there with me. Okay?"

"Okay. You just did the mind meld with me again, Micky." She smiled at him and gave him the "live long and prosper" hand gesture that Mr. Spock from Star Trek made.

Micky smiled with gratification at their ability to communicate with humor, consideration and delicacy for each other's hangups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	23. Chapter 23

Micky wheeled the Monkeemobile into the parking lot of the Montecito Inn and he and Gabby looked dubiously at the Spanish-style hotel. It looked very fancy. They had already declined the offer of valet parking, which cost about as much as Gabby spent on a takeout dinner for her and the girls usually. They clasped hands as they entered the hotel, gawking at the lavish appointments and looking here and there on the hunt for signs of movie stars or memorabilia signifying Charlie Chaplin's ownership of the hotel. There were plenty of both in its heady atmosphere. They approached the small restaurant, took a look at a menu, noticed the prices and looked at each other with shocked expressions. As one, they turned and walked swiftly away, giggling that their motions were so in sync they resembled a Busby Berkeley musical. 

They strolled around the grounds and the pool for a bit, then decided they should hit the road again. Gabby suggested "I know where we ought to go to get lunch. I just remembered a place that my older brother absolutely loves. It's a coffee shop called Pea Soup Andersen's on Highway 101. It's homey and filling and cheap."

"Sounds more our speed," agreed Micky.

"I don't care if you get really rich as a rock star in the future, Micky. I don't want to go to places like that hotel. That was snooty and yucky."

"I'm with you, babe." Micky got a cozy, warm feeling inside, hearing Gabby talk about a future that involved the two of them. He realized she didn't even notice she was doing it and decided to keep his thoughts to himself, but he let his mind stray to the possibility of him becoming a successful musician and being able to afford to take Gabby to places they couldn't visit now, to see new cities and towns and maybe even countries, and stay in more comfort than they ever had before. Most of all, though, he cherished the thought of them continuing on into the future, as a team, as he pursued his dreams.

They drove another hour or so, past Santa Barbara and reached Beulton, pulling up to a Danish style building housing Pea Soup Andersen's. 

They felt like they had found their people when the waitress greeted them and called them each "Hon" when she asked them what they wanted to eat. They decided when in Rome, do as the Romans, so they ordered the pea soup, which wasn't half bad. Gabby chose grilled cheese, the ultimate comfort food when she was feeling out of sorts, which between that creepy hotel and the discussion they had had about Nick and a potential future visit with a shrink she was definitely feeling, and Micky chose his standard cheeseburger. After Gabby started filching fries from his plate, he started feeding them to her, which they confessed for some reason they found both cozy and erotic.

"You feeling better now, babe?"

"Yeah, it's amazing what a good meal and the right environment can do for your mood."

"Hey, you forgot to mention good company! That has a lot to do with it too, right?" Micky sought reassurance.

"You betcha. So now that I'm back on solid ground, I know where our next stop should be. Let's skip dessert here and hit Solvang. When I was a kid, my summer camp took us on a field trip there and it's hog heaven if you love sweets. It's kind of like a Danish version of Disneyland, and it's mostly just an excuse to eat as much sugar as you can fit in your belly."

"That sounds fabulous!"

"You sure, Micky? We have to double back a little bit, but not too far."

"That doesn't matter. We're on a ramble. We don't have to drive in any particular direction. We're letting the wind take us where it will, remember? That's what you said."

"I love that you listen to what I say and remember it. That makes you a very extraordinary man, Micky, do you realize that?" Gabby looked him in the eye and gave him an extremely sincere and serious look.

"Wow, I had no idea, but I'm really flattered and also depressed and disappointed on behalf of my gender," Micky grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

Solvang was a little like entering the Emerald City. It was _sui generis_ , just sitting on its own in the middle of nowhere, with its own architectural style that matched nothing else around it. All the buildings were of Danish style, with gabled windows, thatched or red-tiled roofs, stucco walls with timbered trimming, and windmills and water wheels scattered hither and thither. The main street was dotted with stores selling homemade fudge, hand-pulled taffy, waffle cones with homemade ice cream, authentic Danish pastries, and Æbleskiver pancake puffs. There were also vintners selling wines grown and bottled in the neighborhood. 

Gabby half expected to see Hans Christian Andersen sitting at the fountain in the town square where they were sitting now, eating their treats, surrounded by a group of children listening to him telling fairy tales. She mused that Micky would make a more than adequate substitute and told him so.

"Ha! Well, I've got experience with it, that's for sure! I have three younger sisters, and two of them are much younger than I am. What about you? Did you read to your younger sibling?"

"No, I hated him from the day I met him in the cradle and it's been only recently that I could barely stand him. I'm not big on him, but I don't mind kids. I've been babysitting my little brother since day aught and other people's kids since I was eleven years old. I just think my younger brother is a little shit. He was very spoiled and got all the attention in the family. Well, that's not really true, my older brother got what was left, because he was gravely ill. That meant my sister and I got nuthin' and were the classic middle children lost in the shuffle. Still, it had its advantages. My sister turned into a total stoner wild child and got away with murder for all of her high school career until she got busted on graduation night, and I was a goodie goodie on most fronts except for with the boys, and in that case, I got away with murder and my folks didn't have a clue."

Micky mulled over the massive amount of information he had just received and tried to decide which bit he wanted to focus on and inquire further about. On the one hand, he was curious about what Gabby thought about marriage and children. On the other hand, he was concerned that she had a gravely ill brother and hoped he wasn't still sick. Then he thought about her younger brother and wondered what kind of parents could have such ill-balanced equities among their children and ignore half of their brood and also wondered what kind of damage that did to Gabby's psyche and whether she was underplaying that. He was curious to hear about her stoner sister and how she had finally got busted and whether she had managed to clean up her act. But being a guy and hoping to become Gabby's lover, he naturally was most drawn to the irresistible question of what she meant about what kind of shenanigans she got up to with the boys. So that's where he went first.

"That's a lot of information and I have a lot of follow-up questions, and I promise to get to all of them, but I'm going to be a pig and ask about the last part first."

Gabby grinned and said "I figured you would."

"Hey, I'm a man, I'm getting to know you intimately, and you already know my reputation. I figure it's only fair that you dish some of your dirt, especially since you opened the door. So spill."

"Oh, I was always chasing love, even when I was a young girl. So I did dumb things like inviting boys over in the middle of the night. I had a boyfriend in junior high who I really liked who came over with a group of friends and they all climbed in my bedroom window and then we went out and TP'ed someone's house. You know, when you throw toilet paper all over someone's trees? I really only did it to get his attention. Then another time, when I was a sophomore in high school, I had a boyfriend who wanted to come over in the middle of the night and I let him crawl in my window and he slept on my bedroom floor. That was the tame stuff. Do you want to hear the rest?"

"Hell, yeah!"

Gabby giggled. "I don't know why I even asked that. This is going to sound like a laundry list. I'm just going to run through it, but don't think it didn't all mean the world to me when it was happening. I was always in love with whoever I made out with. Or for that matter, whoever I was mooning over. It wasn't until my senior year when I made out with that friend at the cliffs that I discovered 'friends with benefits' and kissed a boy who I didn't love."

"Okay, okay, I'm not judging you and you're not running for public office, just give me the dirt."

"Jeez, so impatient!" Gabby rolled her eyes. "Well, there was the guy I met the summer before I turned Sweet Sixteen. He was the first guy I ever gave a blowjob to. It happened in my bedroom. God knows where my parents were. Or rather, I know where my dad was, which is probably overseas somewhere or on the road in the U.S, which is where he always was. He travelled a ton for his job. My mom did a lot of shopping or lying on her bed watching soap operas. So we were in my bedroom and we decided, or at least I thought what we decided, was that we'd both try out oral sex on each other. So I did him and then I assumed he was going to do me. But then I'm waiting around for him to get to me and it's not happening and I'm like 'What the heck?' and finally I just asked him 'Are you going to do it or not?' and he acted like we never had even discussed it. I was very disappointed. On another day he eventually got over his stage fright or whatever it was, though." Gabby grinned, wondering whether she was shocking Micky.

Micky just nodded and said "And then what?"

"Well, we broke up not too long after that. We were in his dad's apartment – his dad was divorced from his mom – and we got caught taking a shower together and I guess that was kind of a bridge too far. I don't really know if that's why he broke up with me, though. He never really did tell me why. But in any case, I didn't have too much time to mourn that loss because Wendy introduced me to a guy she had met who had the hots for me and I was on to the next adventure."

"In your bedroom?"

"Yeah, and in his."

"Did you go down on him, too?"

"Man, you _are_ nosy! Yeah, I did. It was lovely. I loved him and we were going to get married someday. He was a year ahead of me in school and we dated during the rest of that year, my junior year in high school. Then he graduated and joined the Navy and he was in this elite program that had him training in all different places on the east coast, and we hardly ever saw each other. I broke up with him right before I started college because he was trying to horn in on my college experience, and by mid-October he called me to tell me he was getting married! Hmph, so much for true love and 'I'll wait for you, Gabby' and 'We'll be together forever.' He had a sidepiece all along and I never knew. But that's okay, because so did I. I had that guy from math class and another guy I had a crush on, but at least I told him about them. I was honest with him about wanting to date other people and I told him about them and the guy I had the crush on even wrote my boyfriend a letter because my boyfriend asked him to, presumably to vet him."

"So what kind of trouble did you get into with those other two guys?"

"Not much. In fact none at all. I couldn't get anything off the ground with the guy I had a wicked crush on. He led me on and then blew me off and I spent all of my senior year pining away for him and his friends all told me he wasn't good enough for me but I didn't listen. Then this friend from math class was just kind of a distraction because he had a long-distance girlfriend too and he wasn't really available any more than I was, seeing as how I had this guy in the Navy. Man, things were so simple then even though it sounds complicated. Nothing like what happened eventually with you-know-who. I've decided I don't want to say his name anymore for the rest of this trip."

"That sounds like a good call. Well, so now you have me caught up on your sex life?"

"What? No not really, you just wanted to know what I got up to in my bedroom and what I pulled off under my parents' noses. That's enough." Gabby grinned.

"Fair enough. I don't particularly want to have to share chapter and verse with you either."

"Good. I don't want to have to whip out my calculator and green visor," Gabby joked and poked Micky in the cheek.

"Speaking of bedrooms, we ought to be making a move and try to get wherever we're going so we can find a place to lay our heads tonight. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I do. Why don't you roll me to the car?"

"Okay, will do." Micky grabbed Gabby and tossed her over his shoulder as she shrieked with laughter.

"You're going to do yourself an injury and then the guys are going to blame me if you aren't fit to perform on Friday night!"

He placed her on the back of the Monkeemobile and spread her legs and squared his body up to hers, then grabbed her butt cheeks and gave them a squeeze. "Mmmmm, you feel good. I think I can feel the grilled cheese here..." and he squeezed her left cheek, "and I can feel the waffle cone here" and squeezed her right cheek.

"And this is a good thing? You're lucky I'm not Wendy or you'd have a heaving, crying mess on your hands!"

"Nah, you're you, all five foot four of voluptuous, curvy, gorgeous, confident you. And you're all mine. How lucky am I?"

"No luckier than I am to have all six feet of sexy, lean, lithe and goofy you," she smiled and gave him a smooch through a smile.

"Wanna find a no-tell motel and check in for an hour?" Micky asked her with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"No. Let's go find a place to be respectably randy for the whole night."

Micky sighed. "Okay, we'll play it your way."

They got into the Monkeemobile and continued up the coast, headed for Carmel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note that the rating for this story has changed to Explicit

After tooling around Carmel for a while, they decided to stop at The Village Inn. It was near the beach and the shops, and Gabby liked the flower garden. "Sold to the lady from Palos Verdes!" Micky cried as he turned the wheel of the Monkeemobile into the parking lot and nestled it in to the "off street parking" that the motel's postcard touted. 

They dumped their stuff and went in search of something to eat for dinner. Gabby commented that when she was traveling, she often wished that she could just take her head with her and leave her body at home. "It's such a pain in the ass, looking for food, water, bathrooms, a place to sleep. I just want to see the sights, take in the sensations and feel my feelings. My bodily functions are just a burden."

"That's a novel way of looking at travel. I think that could make a great science fiction movie plot," Micky observed.

"Should we write it and then drop it off at the Montecito Inn on our way home for Mr. Chaplin to have a look at?" Gabby laughed.

"Let's do it!" Micky raised his arms and cheered.

They ended up at a Mexican restaurant, always Gabby's go-to default when at a loss as to what to eat. Gabby was still stuffed from lunch, so she got the absolute minimum she could order, one taco, and Micky, a human garbage disposal (so Gabby observed) ordered a full dinner and made significant headway on the tortilla chips and salsa that were offered before dinner arrived. They decided since they weren't driving that they'd treat themselves to shots of tequila, and they both got a bit squidgy. Micky enjoyed seeing Gabby let her hair down and be a bit tipsy.

"Now don't get me wrong, Mickster. I'm not sayin' that men are totally useless when it comes to makin' a woman feel somethin' down in her nether regions. I'm juss sayin' that they need a bit of guidance, a bit of help navigatin' that territory. Iss a bit more complicated, hic, more involved than a fella's equipment, ya dig?"

"Sure, Gabby, I get ya. Tell me more." Micky had his elbow on the table and was leaning his cheek on his hand, holding in a huge guffaw and trying hard not to tip Gabby off that he knew exactly what she meant and already had the knowledge she felt most men lacked. He was just getting such a kick out of her dropping her guard and possibly also dropping a hint or two to him about what she feared might be a lack of expertise on his part. Maybe she'd been talking with Dawn about breaking Peter in, he surmised.

"Well iss like this, friend. Women don't just explode like guys. We only got a few millimeters of nerve endings. You guys got so many inches of nerve endings iss like shootin' fish in a barrel. I was once with a guy who I'm positive didn't even know what a clitoris was! Either that or he just dint give a damn. Either way, he was an asshole and didn't give a shit about me and it wass terrrrible. And then like I said, I mean how come I kept runnin' into one guy after another who couldn't last more than 30 seconds? Iss juss weird!"

"I think maybe you just had bad luck, Gabby, and like you said, like we've said, you have to ask for what you want." Micky tried to look sympathetic and not on the verge of collapse from holding in his laughter. Actually, as he thought about it though, he did feel some sympathy for her. She was right about guys' capacity for being unfeeling and selfish. He started to wrack his brains to think about whether he had ever been that way.

"Nah, nah, don't be goin' there." She shook her head and flicked Micky's cheek to rouse him from his reverie. "I see you doin' it again. You're goin' back in time, rakin' over old coals. I tol' you we're havin' none o' that." Gabby was on a roll now.

"I'm not doing it like repentance, Gabby. I'm just wondering when I figured out what to do and whether I ever was that selfish. I think sometimes it's a matter of competence and sometimes it's a matter of selfishness. I'm pretty sure in my case, the selfishness only came aimed _at_ me from the groupies, never in the other direction. But there was probably plenty of incompetence in my youth. That's only natural."

"Well I don't want you braggin' on how competent you are now. I'll wait to judge for myself. An' I juss don't even wanna _know_ how you got that way. I juss wanna benefit from it. Thass the one good thing that can come out of all your groupie gropin' – competence. I will grant you that. You not mad at me for talkin' about this, are ya Micky?"

"Nah, I think it's hilarious. I'm glad to know exactly what's going on in your head at any given time. And it will be my pleasure to give you pleasure, Gabby. I just hope I measure up to your expectations."

"Friend, you already surpassed 'em by NOT touchin' me right away. That marks you out as extraordinary and you couldn'ta made a better impression on me than that. Everythin' else is heavenly so far. You make me crazy for you now, you know that, don'tcha?"

"Right back atcha, babe."

"Then le'ss get outta here and walk me around for a while so I can sober up a bit and enjoy your competence with a clear head."

They walked down to the ocean and there was a stiff breeze that did a pretty solid job of sobering Gabby up fairly swiftly. 

After walking the surf line for about 45 minutes, Gabby declared herself ready to return to the hotel to serve yet another annoying bodily function, namely her bladder, and they walked back to their room. When she emerged from the bathroom, Micky was lounging on the bed with the TV remote in his hand, about to turn on the set to see what was playing on the tube. Gabby held up her hand and said "Stop right there, Mister. There's a house rule at this hotel. They charge you every time you change the channel and we can't afford it."

Micky looked bewildered and dropped the remote control as if it were a hot coal. "No way! Thank God I didn't turn it on. Jeez, how did you figure that out?"

"I'm bullshitting you. I just don't want you to watch the TV. I just want you to pay me all your attention." She had a satisfied smirk on her face.

Micky clutched his chest and exhaled a huge breath. "Jeezuz, Gabby, you almost gave me a heart attack! I'm gonna have to get you back for that!"

"Oh yeah, bring it on. I'll await your clever response with baited breath. What are you going to do, short sheet the bed or hide my bra?"

"Mmmm, I like your second suggestion," Micky purred. "Come 'ere."

She climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him. "So now that you can't watch TV, what do you want to do?"

"I know exactly what I want to do. I been thinking about it since this afternoon when you were chattering away in front of the fountain in Solvang."

"Yassss? Care to elaborate?"

"You were talking about the things you got up to with guys in your room that your parents never caught on to, and you mentioned the first time you had oral sex . . ."

"Sounds promising," mused Gabby. "But get this straight, Dolenz. I learned something that day. A life lesson. Never go first the first time around, lest you get left hung out to dry!" She started to chuckle as if she had uncovered the wisdom of the ages.

"I can see how you'd walk away with that game plan for future encounters. But I take it that only goes for first time introductions. I don't think it's a good idea to let the guy carry all the water and take the wheel all the time. It disempowers a woman."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that, oh champion of women's rights. Of course, that goes without saying. But I'm not budging on this negotiating point."

"You drive a hard bargain, Gabriella, but I think I'm amenable to meeting your terms," Micky smiled.

Gabby melted when she heard him say her name like that. It always made her crumble and turn to a quaking heap of nerve endings. She started to breathe erratically and her eyes began to search his for the start of their next adventure, their next point of contact. Where would it be? She decided to wait and let him decide as she trembled with anticipation.

He watched her quiver and mulled how to approach her. He wanted to command her whole being and leave no doubt how much he wanted her, but not frighten her off either. He already had decided he wasn't going to make love to her tonight, so he wanted to make this count and to satisfy her in every way he could, like she referred to when she was loose-lipped at the restaurant.

He reached for the back of her head and neck and plundered her mouth with his tongue, overwhelming her with his kisses and breathing in harmony with her as they kissed deeply. Then he began to ravish her neck and throat with wet kisses, then sucking kisses, then licking kisses, then suctioning kisses, then biting kisses. He overwhelmed her senses and gave her very little room or personal space to move or breathe or function. He wanted to make her totally his and to join their bodies and create an electricity that buzzed between them, to create a force field around the surface of both their bodies so that it was impossible to distinguish where one started and the other began.

He removed her shirt and then his own, and the combination of saliva and suction and blooming sweat joined their bodies together as they moved slickly together. He continued to cover her with kisses and licks and added friction from his day-old beard. This new sensation added to her frenzy and she began to pant and moan with every pass of his rough chin over her now sensitized skin, and he hadn't even yet touched an erogenous zone. He wasn't going to do that until he had all her clothes off.

He gave the same treatment to the rest of her torso, then he started to strip off the rest of her clothes. She literally had no idea what was coming next. She had never experienced anything like this approach. He wasn't touching her anywhere normally particularly sensitive, but her whole body felt like it was on fire. He had licked and sucked and rubbed and nibbled her neck, belly, arms, hips, thighs, backs of her knees and now was back up to her ears nibbling at them and whispering to her "What do you want, Gabriella? Tell me."

"I want..."

"Yeah, tell me. What do you want?"

"I want you to taste me."

"Mmmm, I'd like to do that," Micky answered dreamily.

He descended back down, stopping at her breasts to tease her nipples to crownlike peaks with his tongue. She was in agony, not knowing how long he'd stay there. Her legs were falling open in anticipation, and he watched her thighs begin to shake. A smile broke on his face. This is how he wanted her. He wanted her to want him so much she was asking for it, requesting it, practically begging for it. That's the only way it could be with them. Mutual and wanted, needed, desired and destined.

He traced his tongue down her belly again scratching her skin with his stubbly chin, and she moaned and ran her hands through his hair. He moved down to her trembling thighs and started to nip and bite them gently. As they began to shake more violently, he took his hands and steadied them, then he dipped his head in towards her coochie and began to gently lick and poke it with his tongue. This sent her into a frenzy. She lifted her hips off the bed but he took his hands and firmly guided her back down to the mattress and held her there.

Now he zeroed in on her love button and paid tribute to it, enclosing it with his lips and sucking it exclusively. When she signaled her approval with the way she moved her body, he increased the pressure and suction. After a moment, he switched tactics and widened his field of contact, swirling and licking and lapping, then returning to his target. She started to pant harder and he took a finger and inserted it in her vagina and rubbed the upper wall which had a rough spot that was more sensitive than the rest, what some women referred to as their G-spot. Once again Gabby's hips shot up as she strove to make contact with his finger, and he added another one and rubbed harder while maintaining contact with his tongue on her clitoris.

He could tell by the way she was moving and chanting Yes, Yes, Yes, that she liked what he was doing and how he was doing it, and by the way she was trembling and rocking and breathing that she was in the home stretch, so he maintained what he was doing and just stayed with her and didn't change or vary his technique too much. She had what she wanted and he was going to help her see it through now. His free hand strayed to one of her breasts and twisted and tweaked her nipple, and that seemed to send her over the edge. She cried out and said his name over and over "Oh, Micky, Micky, Micky." Then she just rocked and tried to make as much contact with his hands and his tongue as possible and then she grabbed his free hand and pressed it to her clitoris and held it there, still and firm, and clenched her legs closed as he moved his face away. He was in awe of this woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to work with him to achieve it. It was like building a monument to pleasure. They both contributed to it. It was a work of art and they both signed their name to it.

While he was waiting for her breath to level out, he reached up and kissed her belly and other areas of her body that weren't too sensitive. When she heaved a big breath out through her nose and sighed and parted her legs, he removed his hands, looked her in the eye and licked his fingers that had been inside her. This made her grin. He moved up the bed and now gathered her into his arms and cradled her. He let his fingernails brush her arms and comb through her hair.

She opened and closed her eyes a few times as if she were emerging from a trance, then looked up at him. "Mmmmm, you made me feel like I was buzzing, every nerve ending in my body was firing."

"So more than a few millimeters at work then?"

"Mmmmm, yeah. You gave me a new perspective on the matter. It's not all about those few millimeters. It's about dozens of inches of epidermis and then there's that spot inside me that I never felt before or knew was there. And then there's the intangible part, the emotion and feelings I have for you, the confidence and trust I have in you, that makes it incomparable to anything else I've ever felt in my life."

Micky's ears perked up at this last part. "You have confidence and trust in me?"

"Yes, Micky, I do. I've got it in great big gobs. I told you that pretty early on. You're the one who's been doubting yourself. I keep absolving you and you keep blaming yourself. It's not like you're the bad boy who needs to go to reform school. You know what Dawn called you right from the start? A little lost lamb who just needed a good woman to set him straight. But you didn't need that at all. You set yourself straight. I didn't do anything to get you on the path to this relationship. You just decided you wanted it and made it happen. You claimed me, you captivated me, and you earned me. Not like the Berkeley bastard, with chicanery and trickery, but with honesty and emotion."

Micky's eyes shimmered with tears, but Gabby was fairly certain they were happy tears. Just to make sure, though, she nudged his chin with her hand and asked "Are you happy, Micky? Do you believe in yourself and what we have?"

"Yeah, I'm happy and I do believe it. I don't feel like a charity case anymore. I feel like your equal. I feel like I have things to offer you that you want and qualities that you're looking for."

"Right. For one thing, you're hiiiiiighly competent," Gabby enthused, winking at him in an exaggerated manner.

Micky exhaled a guffaw. "I hope that's not all I'm good for. Like I told you, I'm a man of substance."

Gabby grabbed Micky's chin again and focused in on his eyes and said "Micky, you're as deep as the ocean and as complex as those peacock feathers as we saw the other day. I find you endlessly fascinating and yet also very easy and comforting. You have so much to offer and I look forward to continuing to discover it all. Now may I be so bold as to make a request?"

"Sure, ask away."

"Can I give you the best blowjob it's within my level of competence to give you?"

Micky exploded with wave after wave of laughter, unable to contain his amusement at Gabby's bawdy, bold, raunchy sense of humor and absolute confidence with her sexuality and desire for him. Just as she knew how to ask for the pleasure she wanted to receive, she also was comfortable asking for the pleasure she wanted to bestow.

"Lady, that's an offer I can hardly refuse. I'm glad you're not going to leave me high and dry like that asshole did when you were sixteen."

"I get the feeling that even if I did, you'd still be cool with it, which is what makes me want you even more."

She crept towards Micky like a hungry lioness and began to peel off the rest of his clothes. She ran her hands over the minimal body hair he had and she remarked upon his relative hairlessness.

"Yeah, it's growing in kind of slowly," Micky conceded.

"I like it. I'm not mad about hairy dudes. I find smooth skin to be extremely sensual. Plus, I'll bet this time next year you'll have more hair."

"Are you going to be here this time next year, Gabby?" Micky threw caution to the wind and asked her.

"I don't know, Micky, but that's my plan at this moment. I'd like for us to stay on the course we're on. I'm not playing the field. I'm looking for my man, for The One. Are you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then that's all I think need be said for now," Gabby summed it up. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, but she wanted to reassure Micky she was serious about him. She was skittish about committing to forevers, but she knew that she wanted something long-term and real. She wasn't sure what she could trust and what was illusion because of what she had been through with Nick. She reflected again that maybe Micky was right and she ought to go see a shrink. Maybe she'd never be able to truly commit to a forever until she chased away the ghost of the past.

"I'm serious about you, Micky. This isn't a game to me. I think you're right that there's some cleanup work I need to do on myself to get my head straight before I figure out what the future holds and whether I'm able to be there for anyone without letting them down. I think I'm going to look into finding a therapist when we get back. I realize now that I won't be able to answer your questions about the future until I get my past sorted out."

Micky took Gabby in his arms and said "I'm proud of you, Gabby, and I'm honored that you'd be willing to do that for me, but I hope you're really doing it for yourself. Your own well-being is what's most important."

"Thank you, Micky, for having faith in me."

She now laid him back on the bed and stroked his curly hair and resumed her inventory of his body hair. She took the trip down his happy trail, from his belly button down to his pubic hair and buried her hands in it and luxuriated in it. She traced patterns around it and drew her name and his, like kids do. G + M. M + G. Then she began to do the same on his belly with her tongue.

"Has anyone ever kissed you on the back of your knee, Micky?"

"Nope, another neglected area of my anatomy despite my sordid past."

"I'm so happy to have the privilege to be the first!" she crowed.

She lifted his leg and ran her tongue behind his knee. He was surprised at how sensitive he was there, and he began to breathe faster as she licked and sucked the tender flesh. Her tongue started to travel up towards his groin, then stopped and licked the soft, bare, hairless spot where his pubic hair ended and his thigh began. Again, he was surprised at how sensitive he was there. She seemed to be finding all sorts of hidden treasure that he had no knowledge of and he was enjoying the new revelations.

Now she took him by surprise by swooping down and taking one of his balls all the way into her mouth and tonguing it gently, licking it from the bottom to the side and then applying suction to the whole thing. He hissed with ecstasy as she touched the most sensitive parts on the edge. She switched to the other side and repeated the process. Micky's eyes rolled back in his head and he felt like he was losing consciousness a bit. Now she performed a maneuver he didn't think possible. She took both in her mouth at the same time and just held them there for a moment, then delicately sucked them and applied pressure until the feedback he gave her let her know that he liked it and was enjoying the sensation. In point of fact, he was wondering whether he would pass out from the bliss.

She slid her tongue up the shaft now, gently tonguing the whole length with the flat and rough surface, then ended with just the tip of her tongue at the head and ran that underneath the mushroomed ridge of the glans. She gently ran her teeth back down the shaft and then her tongue back up again, swirling around the sensitive head again and again. Now she was ready to take the job more seriously, having readied him for what was to come. She slid the head of his penis into her mouth and let his whole length move down her throat. He was of average length and had a good proportion of girth, had a lovely shape and firmness, and was circumcised, which was just how Gabby liked it. She felt that emphasis on great length was completely overrated, becoming painful at a certain point of diminishing returns, and that she'd take girth over length any day. She also had never encountered an uncircumcised penis and hoped she never would as they gave her the willies, pun intended. Micky's penis was beautiful and matched his nipples. Pink, firm and delicious.

She began to deep throat him and he gasped at this accomplishment. She assumed he must not have encountered many chicks with a decent command over their gag reflex, as his penis didn't seem that intimidating to her. The first guy she gave head to in her childhood bedroom had been very long and had at least a couple of inches on Micky lengthwise. That had been a bit scary. But maybe it had been good training, she reflected. She was enjoying blowing Micky's mind but decided not to end the party too soon.

She decided to slick him up thoroughly with plenty of saliva and then she moved her body up and placed his penis between her breasts and allowed him to thrust and create friction. As he moved, she licked the head every time it moved towards her mouth. This was incredibly stimulating for both of them and a completely new experience for him. She sensed he was getting close and didn't really fancy the pearl necklace effect that porn stars often received, so she settled back down to take his penis back in her mouth and allowed him now to fuck her mouth. Most guys wouldn't dare do this, it being bad form and against etiquette, but she encouraged him to do what he wanted to do, and said "come on, give it to me Micky, do what you want," and that's what he wanted. He erupted shortly after she gave him license to have his way with her and he cried out in a strangled, incoherent yell, continuing to move his hips for several moments after he was done coming in her mouth. She swallowed it all, then stayed still and held his flesh in place, and cradling it and giving it a warm cocoon to rest for a bit before she moved her tongue again. She could feel him trembling with aftershocks, and she stroked his hips as he jerked and twitched.

Now she removed her mouth from him and allowed his flesh to slide from her and flop back down on his belly. She wriggled back up to this face and gave him a wet, tongue on tongue kiss so that he would taste his bodily fluids on her. He didn't seem to mind, in fact he seemed to take them in stride and wasn't surprised at this move.

"How do you feel, Micky?" she asked.

"I feel like a million bucks," he replied.

"Good. That's just great. I feel pretty chipper myself."

"God, Gabby. That felt like . . ."

"Yes?"

"Well, I was going to say something that's going to make you think of my past again, but I can't help it. You made me feel things I've never felt before. No one has ever made me feel like that and some of that stuff I've never had done to me."

"Hooray!" She raised her arms in victory. "So you mean I've got some tricks up my sleeve those skanky groupies don't even know? Maybe I ought to run workshops for them and charge them entry fees. I could make a fortune!'

Micky started to crack up and said "Thank you for being so easy going and fun and hilarious and wonderful and so you."

"Sure, Micky. You don't have to worry so much about me judging you. I mean, you didn't judge me for all the shenanigans I got up to with those guys in high school, and you don't even know the shit I got up to in junior high or college!"

"Oh lord, well you'll have to fill me in on that at some point."

"Mmmm, maybe some other time. I don't want you to think I'm some harlot from the Hill. At least not tonight. There's time for that later. So are we both satiated for the evening? Can we save other things for other times?"

"Yes, definitely. That's a yes on both counts. I've got things I need to say to you before we go any further. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, it is. I figured as much, and I feel the same way. We'll stick to the plan. Walk before we run. No hurry."

"Gabby, this was lovely."

"It really was, Micky. You're lovely."

"You too, babe. You knocked me out. I have to sleep now."

"Oh, bebeh. Put your head on momma's bosom and go to sleep."

"Mmmm, sounds good."

She kissed him good night and they settled in and turned out the lights. There was peace and serenity and the smell of flowers from the garden and sex in the room. It intoxicated them both and they quickly fell asleep.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the rating for this story has been changed to Explicit

Instead of checking out the town of Carmel, Gabby had wanderlust and wanted to push on up north and see more of the coast, so they hopped back in the Monkeemobile and headed for Monterey. The beaches on this stretch of coast were wilder, with jagged rocks, craggy coves, and trees leaning dramatically towards the water, stretching towards the sunlight and bending precariously away from the soil in which they sat. Like Palos Verdes, there were steep cliffs with precipitous drop-offs, forming coves and bays that trapped the waves and made their movement more dramatic and violent as they met the shore. 

This was a wild, untamed country, Micky mused, contrasting it from the relatively mild, mellow and flat Malibu beach that abutted the Pad. There were few people on the beach. It wasn't the sort of place to bring a beach towel and lounge. It was more like a place to hike and brace yourself against the elements. It was invigorating and stimulating, and Micky felt a surge of libido rise up in his blood. He spotted a clearing on top of a hill covered with scrubby vegetation, overlooking the beach, and took Gabby's hand firmly and led her to it. They spread out the handy blanket that was always kept in the Monkeemobile for just such romantic purposes, and settled down to face the ocean. 

After admiring the whitecaps and waves for a few moments, they turned to each other at the more or less the same time and grabbed for each other and began to kiss each other in a frenzied, wild manner in keeping with their wild surrounding. Gabby ran her fingers through Micky's windswept hair, a fetish she prized almost as highly as touching his nipples. "Mmmm, Micky, that hair of yours is magic. I feel like it has secrets to tell me if I listen closely enough."

Micky stirred from his state of frenzied enchantment for a moment to give that some thought and replied "Well if you find out anything enlightening, share it with me. I always want to know what you think and feel and are experiencing, particularly when we're intimate. It turns me on to be able to climb inside your mind. That's why I always ask you to tell me. It makes me feel closer to you and it turns me on."

Gabby said "I find it incredible that you want to know and it challenges me to tell you. I have to set aside that whole societal stricture on nice girls not talking dirty or asking for what they want. Though let's face it, I have a potty mouth to begin with, so I've already kicked over that convention. But telling you my most secret thoughts and feelings, that takes trust. You make it easy, though. I once said you were dangerous, a risk to my heart, but I don't feel that way anymore. Maybe it's because I know you _are_ listening to me and asking me to tell you what I want."

Micky was deeply moved by this confession and hugged Gabby and resumed kissing her again with an animalistic abandon. It was too windy and chilly to be stripping off clothing, so he burrowed his hands underneath her clothes instead, unbuttoning her cardigan and slipping his hands underneath her shirt, lifting up her bra and running his hands lightly over her breasts and nipples. She moaned, leaned into him and requested "I need you to touch me more, Micky. Unleash the hounds."

He laughed at her saucy, humorous turn of phrase and reached behind her and unfastened her bra, then resumed feeling her up. Given their mostly private location, their inhibitions were pretty much non-existent, and he leaned down and sucked on her breasts and pulled on her nipples hard, as she moaned and cried out for more. They tumbled down on the blanket and Micky pinned her down and ravished her. She was enjoying the feeling of his weight on her, particularly his rock hard erection which he had aligned with her crotch and was now pressing into her. 

"I sense you want some attention, too, my Micky. Want to let me take care of you?"

"Mhmm..."

She rolled him over and unzipped his jeans and reached in for his penis but let everything else stay where it was. The idea of taking him here, out in the wild and the thought of maybe getting caught or interrupted or needing to leave quickly, that element of danger or the unknown, excited her. Right at this moment, she was that feral animal that she had warned Micky he had the capacity to turn her into, and she told him that. 

"You're turning me into a wild animal, a wild woman, out here in the wild. So that's what I'm going to be, okay?"

"Rowrrr," Micky growled in agreement.

She murmured "Want you. Want you so much. Just you. Just this. Here, this moment. What you do to me, you make me crazy, like a wild creature hunting its prey. Now I have you. I'm going to eat you." She plunged her mouth down around Micky's manhood and sucked him off fast and furiously. There was no delicacy now. She was a madwoman and a feral animal. It was a primal urge she was fulfilling, both hers and his. 

Micky came hard and violently, shouting out to the universe his pleasure. He also felt wild and free and didn't care who could hear him, though he doubted anyone could. He was following Gabby on her fantasy trip and 1as immersed in it as she was. He felt incredibly close to her. Just as he was having that feeling, Gabby whispered to him "You're right there with me, aren't you, Micky?"

"You're reading me right, Mr. Spock."

Gabby sat up and said "Who made you Captain of this ship?"

Micky laid on his back in a state of bliss, panting and replied "You did. You said Kirk and I were both hot and geeky."

"No, I said Shatner was hot and geeky."

Micky fixed her with a doubtful look and pursed his lips. "Gabby, Shatner is playing a geeky character. There's no way in the world that he's a geek in real life. _I'm_ the real deal. So I get to be Captain."

Gabby shrugged her shoulders and said "Captain, I cannot deny that you have a certain logical argument that I find it hard to refute. Okay, you're the Captain and I'm Spock. In any case, my hairdo is more like Spock's!"

They both began to crack up and embraced as Gabby rolled on top of Micky and started to gently tuck his tackle back into his pants. More kissing ensued, though by now it was sweet and slow and full of emotion and affection.

"Gabby, I want to tell you something that's been on my mind for a while. I hope you're ready to hear it because I'm ready to say it, but if I'm wrong, if my timing is off, just tell me and I'll back off. Don't write me off or freak out, okay?"

"Okay, Micky. I won't run away. I'm with you and I'm not going anywhere."

Micky eased them both up to a sitting position and took her hand in his. He took a gulp of air and then peeked at her through his curly bangs, all of a sudden felt a bit shy and skittish.

"Go ahead, Micky. Tell me what's on your mind. I'm with you. I'm here. We are one."

When Micky heard Gabby say "We are one," his expression changed and a light of hope and confidence replaced his doubt and concern. His eyes widened and a smile began to play upon his lips.

"You know how I say to you 'You're my everything,' Gabby?"

"Yes, I love it when you say that."

"Do you remember the first time I said it?"

Gabby paused for a moment to recall. "You said it the first time when you brought me on stage and dedicated a song to me, right after that horrible scene went down in the bathroom."

"Right. I needed you up there with me, and I wanted everyone in the room to know that you were the woman in my life, the one who made me feel safe and cared for and that I was committed to doing the same for you. I didn't care about the groupies, or sustaining the daydreams of the girls in the audience. I was planting my flag and claiming you and putting myself out of commission as a potential date for anyone else in the room but you."

Gabby gasped. "I didn't really realize the extent to which that was such a major statement to make with regard to the rest of the women in the room, all I realized was that you were committing yourself to me in a really public way and it made me feel special. But wow, Micky, you really did make a big sacrifice for me. I hadn't really thought about what it would do to your career if you came out publicly and said you were in a relationship. I've always wanted to take you away from those groupies, but it didn't occur to me that part of your livelihood depends upon sustaining the fantasy of them and the more respectable women in the room that you're single and someone that they could maybe hook up with or at least fantasize about." Gabby frowned and started to feel some remorse for what she had made Micky sacrifice for her, not to mention the thoughtlessness she felt she had displayed.

Micky reached for her and put his arms around her. "Gabby, Gabby, I didn't give up anything. I gained something. Don't you see? I was trying to tell you something important, in the only way I could that felt safe for where we were at at that point in our relationship. The night before, when you got attacked by Dan, when I had to leave you in the dressing room and go play that second set, I was beside myself. I was so concerned about you and unhappy because you were hurting and I couldn't do enough for you. Your pain was my pain. And it hit me right at that moment that I loved you."

Gabby's eyes widened and she exhaled a breath of surprise and shock. 

Micky continued. "I tried to tell you about it that night, when we were whispering in bed at the Pad, but I could tell you weren't ready to hear it, and I realized that if you weren't ready to hear it, then I wasn't ready to say it. So I decided that I needed to figure out another way to tell you. At first, I just said you meant a hell of a lot to me, but that wasn't enough. So I decided to come up with a different way of saying 'I love you.' So I came up with the phrase 'You're my everything.' And I've been saying it to you ever since. 

"And you know the first time I said that phrase? It wasn't even to you. It was when I was freaking out, right after that girl came after me in the men's room and then I was telling Mike about it and worrying about what your reaction would be. He told me he would go find you so I could tell you and I said I hoped to God you'd believe me that I didn't bring that encounter on myself because I couldn't stand to lose you. I said to him I was afraid I'd lose you. And I just couldn't bear it. I said 'I can't live without her. She's my everything. I love her.'"

Gabby's frown began to melt away and she started to smile and cry at the same time. "I wondered that night in bed at the Pad whether you were trying to tell me you loved me, but I wouldn't let my mind go there. I couldn't let myself think it. It couldn't be real because we hadn't known each other very long and I had been so hard on you, and I hadn't let you touch me and everything from my past relationships told me that that meant you couldn't possibly already be in love with me."

"Gabby, that's not what my love for you is about. I told you at the beginning of our friendship, you were already in my heart. You got there really quickly, even when you were still resisting me with pretty much everything you had. I don't know how or why, but there's just something about you that I wanted and needed, and I was going to do everything I could to try to earn your presence in my life, be it as a friend or lover.

"Believe me when I say I was shocked when it struck me that I had fallen in love with you. I had all the same thoughts as you did. I asked myself how could it make any sense, but then I realized that love isn't about sense, it's about feelings and I couldn't deny them. So I didn't bother. I knew I needed to keep them to myself, though, to give you time to get to know me and I know that you still need time to figure out whether or if you'll ever love me, but I'm at the point now where I just feel like I need you to know that I love you. I can't be this close to you, this intimate with you, without telling you how I really feel. It wouldn't feel right anymore. I can't go further, feeling the way I do, without telling you. I hope you don't think I'm pressuring you or trying to get a particular response from you. I want you to do and be and feel how you will. I'm just telling you what's in my head and heart. It's always been that way with us, and nothing has changed. Okay?"

"Okay, Micky. I understand and I hear you. Did you hear me just now? I just told you I loved you. I told you 'We are one.'"

Micky's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "Is that what that means?"

"Yeah, I've got my own special way, too, and I guess I was in a trance when I said it, because I sure didn't plan on it. It just came out of my mouth. It just felt right. You just looked so tied up in knots and so upset, and I wanted to let you know that whatever it was that you had to say to me, that I loved you and that I'd stand by you. I thought maybe you were going to say something you thought I didn't want to hear, or maybe tell me something about yourself that was personal and difficult for you to talk about. I just wanted to let you know that I love you and accept you unconditionally, but I wasn't ready to say right out 'I love you.'" I wasn't really ready to say it because it's so risky, but since you're saying it and you've had your own euphemism going for a while, I may as well stop fooling myself and say it, too. Because it's true. I do love you. And I have for a while, otherwise I wouldn't have let you touch me the way I have. But like I said before, I'm a damaged person and like you said, I've got some cleanup work to do. So with all that in mind, are you sure – "

"Gabby, don't even finish that sentence." Micky interrupted Gabby abruptly. "Don't second guess yourself or me or what we have. One doesn't have anything to do with the other. You said you love and accept me unconditionally. It runs both ways. You keep telling me to stop atoning for the past. I'm not going to let you drag yours around like a millstone either. We're creating new memories, new experiences. Hell, you've already blown my mind with new experiences." Micky gave her a wicked gleam that made her start to giggle. "Good. That's how I like to see you. With a smile on your face and enjoying life." 

Gabby crawled into Micky's lap and wrapped her legs around him and squeezed him hard. She buried her head into his neck and kissed him there, then looked at his face, searching his eyes for what to say next.

"Tell me what you want, Gabriella."

"I want..."

"Yes, tell me."

"I want you to tell me what you want, Micky."

"I want us to give ourselves to each other. I want to make love to you and feel us join as one, like you said."

"Then that's what we'll do. But not here. To quote an Englishman I've grown very fond of, I like my lovin' in a nice soft bed." Gabby smiled and winked at Micky, then stood up and pulled him up with her. "Can you fasten my over the shoulder boulder holder?"

This made Micky laugh so hard it gave him the hiccups. He obliged Gabby by lifting up her shirt and adjusting her bra, reconnecting the two halves of the band and clicking the clasp closed. He gave an affectionate squeeze to each breast before smoothing her shirt back down. He bent down to retrieve the blanket and she goosed his behind, causing him to yelp and hiccup again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the rating for this story has been changed to Explicit

They walked for a time, hand in hand, silently enjoying the wild landscape. " _The Purloined Letter_!" shouted Gabby suddenly, apropos of nothing.

"What are you shouting about, Gabby? Jeez, you scared me! Whose letter?"

" _The Purloined Letter_ , that story by Edgar Allan Poe that I read in my Detective Literature class I took in college, you know, the one I was telling you about on our way up here? Well in that story, the private detective is looking for a letter stolen from some woman that the villain has been using to blackmail her. The police have been trying to find it but failed, and the private detective ends up finding it on a bookshelf in the thief's home, sitting right out in plain view but disguised as another letter. Your declaration of love to me is like the purloined letter – hiding in plain sight. You've been saying to me 'You're my everything,' and I've been telling you how much I love hearing it and how good it makes me feel, not realizing that what you were really doing was declaring your love for me. I knew it made me feel wonderful, but I didn't know exactly why.

"And then there are those Sherlock Holmes movies I told you I loved, the ones with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. There's one called _The Pearl of Death_ , where they're trying to protect this huge pearl called the Borgia Pearl and it gets concealed in a plaster bust of Napoleon to hide it from the villain. Well, the villain storms into the home of the person who bought the bust and Holmes doesn't have time to hide it very well, so he decides to hide it in plain sight near the coat rack and just tosses a scarf over it and a hat next to it and the villain doesn't even notice it. It's so weird how there's all this crisscross with how clever you are and me mentioning those two works of fiction. And here I got completely fooled! Or maybe not, really, since like I said you did make me feel wonderful every time you said that phrase. I think I just didn't dare let my mind entertain the possibility that you were that serious about loving me because I was afraid of love and the negative power it held over me the last time."

"I keep telling you I'm more than a pretty face, my Gabby, when will you learn?" Micky smiled at her and batted his eyelashes at her. "And as for love being a scary thing, well, yeah, it is and always will be, even if you hadn't had that bad experience with you-know-who. I've only had the kind of love you feel when you're a teenager, so I guess you'd call that puppy love, though I'm willing to bet that when you were dating that Navy guy at the same age you thought it was the real thing then at the time. I sure did when I went steady with a couple of different girls in high school. But that night I realized I was in love with you, it all came crashing down on me that that wasn't really love at all that I'd experienced before and that I had no clue what true love was until just that very moment. That's one reason why I didn't say it to you that night. I needed some time to get used to it myself, to figure out whether I could trust it, trust myself. I've led a pretty feckless bachelor life and I didn't want to say too much and then disappoint you or hurt you. I wanted to be cautious and careful with both our hearts."

"Thank you for taking that extra time to know your own mind and heart, as well as looking out for mine. What did you find out about yourself since that night when you first had the thought that you loved me?"

"I know that it hasn't been very long in terms of days since then, but we've been through a lot, what with me getting groped and then declaring our relationship publicly, and both of us quitting our jobs, and watching Davy starve himself to save his life, and Mike having to reassure Wendy that he's not going to chase any tail, and Peter declaring his love for Dawn, and Lynda throwing down the gauntlet to Davy and telling him to grow up and act like an adult human being, and then going to your hometown and my learning more about who you are and where you came from and your friendship with Wendy, and then all the getting to know each other we've done even just on this trip. Well, with all that, I feel like I've learned a lot about you as a person, about what love means, about what's fragile about relationships and what works and what doesn't, and most of all, I've learned that I want to be with you more than I've ever wanted to be with anyone else in the world. I won't rush it, but if I could afford it and it made sense, I'd ask you to move in with me so that I could see you more and not have to cherish every little moment we could steal away to ourselves. I'd like to just appreciate the room and space to _be_ without having to plot and plan it so carefully. That's what's been so wonderful about getting away for this time alone."

"I know, Micky, I do. But hang in there and don't get ahead of yourself. You're starting to sound like that Navy boyfriend I had. He was so desperate to settle down and have a home and domesticity and children and the picket fence and everything that he forgot to do things in the right order. I think that's why he got married so fast after we broke up. There's too much still left to be done before you're ready for all of that, and me, too. You've got to make your way with your career, and I haven't even chosen one yet. Let's get that off the ground first before we talk about settling down and making a home and sending out invitations and all that jazz. I think that would be a huge mistake. Let's just stick to the plan. Walk before we run. Sound okay to you?"

"Yeah, you're right. Of course you are. Mike would kill me if he even heard me saying all that stuff to you. But it's true and I wanted you to know it. And I'm not talking about marriage. I'm just talking about shacking up. I'm not ready for marriage either, for sure, so I'm on the same page with you on that. I'm not scaring you, am I? I'm not running off at the mouth or coming on too strong?"

"No, but I will say that I need you to remember that a couple of days ago I wouldn't even commit to going to the Monterey Pop Festival with you and that's only a month away. There's damage, Micky, and I'm still frightened and traumatized. That hasn't changed. And I'm also just being practical. Please stay with me and be patient. Don't leave me behind as you gallop forward with your fantasies. I told you I don't want to disappoint you. That's been my biggest fear all along. I told you the first night I met you that I wasn't the girl for you because I sensed you wanted one thing that I couldn't give you and I didn't want to stop you from having your bliss and chasing your dream. That still goes for now. If there's something that you need or want that I can't give you yet, I'd rather you tell me so and leave me behind, as much as it would break my heart. But I can't say yes to anything I'm not comfortable with even though it's you and not my former tormenter. Even though you're the best man I've ever known. I will never again say yes when the answer has to be either no or I'm not ready. Do you see what I mean?"

"Of course, yes. We've always been about communication and staying on the same page. And right from the start I've always been way ahead of you and you've always had to rein me in. There's a French phrase that's appropriate here: ' _plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose_.' That means 'the more things change, the more things stay the same.'" Micky laughed and shook his head, and Gabby joined him.

Gabby replied "In Hebrew you'd say it ' _Mah nishtanah, ha-laylah ha-zeh, mi-kol ha-leylot_?' That means 'Why is this night different from all the other nights?'"

Micky squinted his eyes and asked "How is it that you know Hebrew?"

Gabby said "It's printed in the prayer book we use for Passover. How come you know French?"

"I cheated. I got that one from an old movie on the Late Late Show."

"What impressive linguists we are," she said sarcastically. "Want to know another of my hidden talents that's not on my resume?"

Micky waggled his eyebrows and asked "Definitely, if I can be a beneficiary of your further competence."

"Micky, you have a one-track mind! This would only fit into that category if your fantasy is to be covered in sticky sugar. I was going to tell you that I know how to run a cotton candy machine. When I came home for summer break one year, my mom was in charge of a carnival the local symphony was hosting to raise money for its upcoming season, and they had hired a cotton candy-making machine but had no one who knew how to operate it. Fortunately, I had been involved in student activities at college and had learned how to run the machine at a spring fling, so I volunteered to help her out. Boy was she glad she spent all that dough to send me to college so that I could acquire such highfalutin specialized knowledge and skill!"

Micky had a dreamy look on his face.

"Micky, what are you thinking about?" Gabby was pretty sure she knew, but figured it couldn't hurt to get the verbal confirmation.

"What, oh, well, you said it, I didn't. Being covered in sticky sugar. You could spin a whole bunch of that stuff and then lick it off of me..."

"Oh brother!" Gabby rolled her eyes and smacked Micky playfully on the shoulder.

Micky turned to her and grinned and asked "Are we cool? Can we forget I mentioned moving in together and all that serious stuff? I'd much rather talk about silly stuff and tender stuff and interesting stuff and the here and now. You know that's where it's at for me. I don't care about the future. I only care about you and me being happy right at this moment."

"We're cool. As long as you really mean it. Do you really mean it? You're not just blowing smoke up my ass?" Gabby looked a bit fretful still.

"I really mean it, Gabby. I only want you and me plus now equals happy. Those are the only parts of the equation that matter. Everything else is immaterial."

"Okay, then as with everything so far, I'm going to trust you to care for my feelings as tenderly as you always have, and I will continue to trust you because I can't do anything else, something about you compels me to overcome my fears and doubts, some rare quality you have."

They were back in the Monkeemobile, headed south towards their home base at the Village Inn in Carmel.

"So let's pick up with the rest of the stuff I didn't get to ask you about when we were in front of the fountain in Solvang. You can start by telling me about your gravely ill brother, then your stoner sister, then your neglectful parents and what effect that had on your psyche, and we'll skip the questions I wanted to ask you about how you feel about kids and marriage, because we've already decided we're not going there with topics like that for now."

So they talked about all those things as they headed back to Carmel and Micky was fascinated hearing more about Gabby's family history and dynamic. Then he shared more about his family and how things changed after his father died, about how he tried to step up and be the man of the house and how hard that had been on him. By the time they pulled up to the hotel, they both felt they had taken a huge step forward to knowing each other even better. It was like minutes were hours and days were years, and they didn't even really need huge swaths of time to become acquainted because they were so open and free with exchanging information. There was no more shadowboxing to do, it was just a big information dump and they were each gobbling up as much information as they could about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the rating for this story has been changed to Explicit

When they got back to the hotel, two instincts were warring with each other – hunger and lust. It had been a long time since breakfast and both Micky and Gabby's tummies were grumbling, yet they were hungering for each other. A silent debate was chattering within them as they hung around the Monkeemobile neither moving toward the room or the street, until Gabby spoke up.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm right there with you. I'm torn. Let's think about this logically. Doesn't it make sense to be in top form and have all our energy to give each other before we give ourselves over to each other? Or is the hunger we feel for each other so great that nothing else matters, like food?"

Micky was relieved to have Gabby open the conversation and share the responsibility in making the decision. He didn't want to mess up and read the situation wrong. 

"Argh, thank God you read my mind again. I'm really hungry. I say we get food and have our bodies in tip top shape for what's to come, pun intended. Besides, waiting and anticipation makes everything all the sweeter, right?"

Gabby nodded her head in agreement and grabbed his hand and turned their feet towards the street. "I'm with you. I'm going to have ants in my pants all through lunch, but better that than I pass out in your arms from low blood sugar."

They stopped at a café and Micky ate so much Gabby wondered whether he was taking this sports/training metaphor too far. "You look like you're carb-loading for a marathon, Micky. Are you planning on keeping me in bed for the next twelve hours or something?"

Micky paused with his sandwich in his hand (his second sandwich, to be exact) and gave Gabby the kind of look a mad scientist in one of his beloved science fiction movies might project. "I will not reveal my plans for you, my dear. Only that I will be keeping you busy until your next meal."

"Oh my." Gabby was succinct in her reaction. She squirmed in her seat and wriggled. Micky raised an eyebrow of inquiry. "Ants. In my pants," Gabby replied.

Micky looked at her now with a bit of a blush on his face and Gabby gave him her own inquiring look. Now he started squirming in his seat. "What's up, Micky? Have you got ants in your pants, too?"

Micky heaved a sigh and said "No, but I've got something I need to ask that's important that needs to be said and I'd rather talk about it now and get it out of the way than kill the mood later."

Gabby never knew what Micky was going to throw at her, so she just said "Carry on, Micky. I can't _wait_ to hear what's on your mind."

"Okay, well actually, this is kind of serious and necessary." He leaned in closer to her and asked "What do you use for birth control? Cuz I've got an extra suitcase full of it in the trunk of the Monkeemobile, but a lot of chicks are on the pill these days, so I figured I'd ask you how you want to handle that."

Gabby couldn't decide whether to laugh at Micky's humorous way of approaching the delicate and important topic of responsible sex, or to give him a medal for honoring her by not only appreciating the consequences that an unplanned pregnancy would fall heavier on her but also that he wanted her to have a choice about how to protect herself from one. She decided to definitely give in to her impulse to giggle at his humorous lead-in to the conversation. 

"Micky, you're the most. I really have to say you just keep upping your wonderful guy quotient with me. I'm glad you care and that you're responsible about things like this. I'm also glad you realize that women have charge of their own bodies these days and can take care of their own protection now. I'm on the pill. I never stopped taking it after I ended my last relationship. I guess I hadn't given up on love."

He put his hands around her shoulders and leaned his head against her forehead. "I'm so glad you didn't give up on love. I'm honored that I'm the one you're giving your heart and body to. But I did want to make sure we took care of this because like you said, we don't want to get ahead of ourselves. And I want to take care of you, Gabby. I said I would and that's part of it."

"Thanks, Micky. I'd have said something about it when we got back to the hotel if you hadn't."

"Well, me being the romantic, and having the background in acting, I like to set the scene and the mood. So now we can have our cinematic moment."

"Oh my," said Gabby.

Micky gave another quizzical lift of his eyebrow. "Ants. In my pants," Gabby replied.

As they made their way back to the hotel, a man walking a pair of pugs passed by. Gabby squealed and immediately bent down and asked if she could pet them. After the man assented, she was on her haunches, giving both dogs cuddles and kisses and chatting with them in baby talk and passing the time of day with them. Then she settled in and got comfortable, sinking the rest of the way down on the ground and sitting cross-legged so that they could crawl into her lap and optimize their body angles for scratches in all the best places. She struck up a conversation with the gentleman who owned them, and they talked of their love of pugs and dogs in general. She said she hoped one day she could own a dog, once she wasn't living in a non-dog-friendly apartment with roommates, and that her number one preference would be to own a pug. She had even already picked out a name – Schmooshy — and she spelled it out for him since it had an unusual, Yiddish spelling. 

Micky had mixed emotions about witnessing this scene. On the one hand, he was anxious to get her back to the room and make the beast with two backs. But he found himself charmed by this side of Gabby that he'd never seen before. This loving and open, cuddly, unreservedly giving version of her. She was in seventh heaven, having those two dogs crawl all over her, and Micky tried not to project onto the scene what she'd be like with a couple of babies. He sensed that maybe that wasn't even on her radar screen, and he couldn't really see her as the maternal type as she hadn't given an inkling of aspiring to being a mother. But a couple of dogs, or even one. Hmmm, now that was a fantasy that seemed safe to have. He thought that was achievable and something he could hang onto. Visions of a place of their own and a pug and maybe another dog whose breed he could choose. Now that seemed very appealing. His mind began to build castles in the sky again. But he decided to keep it tucked away in his own imagination and not get ahead of himself. Still, he knew that if there were anyone on Earth with whom he wanted to share those blissful pleasures, it was Gabby, and that was enough for him. More than enough.

Eventually, Gabby began to feel guilty for the amount of time she had taken away from this kind gentleman's day and thanked him for letting her spend so much time petting his dogs. 

"Not at all, young lady. I generally add in an extra fifteen minutes or so to the time I plan to get wherever I'm going because I know someone will want to stop and pet my boys. And I so enjoy chatting with true dog people like yourself."

"Yeah, that's what I call myself – a dog person. And I always say that dogs are people, too! Thank you for making my day." 

She stood up and brushed the dust off her butt and waved goodbye to her two furry friends, turning towards Micky with some reluctance to move away. Then she did something Micky thought was truly bizarre. She put her hands up to her nose and sniffed deeply.

"What the heck are you doing, Gabby?"

"Oh, I'm just enjoying that doggy smell. I swear if they made a perfume called Au de Dog, I'd buy a bottle of it and wear it behind my ears and on my pulse points every day. In fact, I'm going to hate washing off that smell when we get back to the hotel."

"Well I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm gonna have to insist that you do. I don't want to confuse what species I'm making love to," Micky laughed.

"Hmmm, well, I've got some thoughts about that, but I'll keep that to myself for now," Gabby said cryptically.

When they got back to the room, Gabby did use the bathroom and wash off the doggy grunge from her hands and face. When she emerged, she noticed that Micky's eyes were burning bright and boring a hole into her, like he could see right through to her insides and inspect the interior of her soul. She challenged him back, meeting his eye contact with a determined, fierce stare of her own. 

Micky was standing on the far side of the bed, leaning in towards it, rocking back and forth and knocking his knees against it. He seemed to be in something of a trance. Finally he said "Come 'ere, little girl." Gabby took the straightest route to him by stepping up on top of the bed and walking over it to him. Then she knelt down on her knees for him and looked up into his eyes, which were burning bright and shimmering with desire and something she couldn't quite define. Was it lust, love, anticipation, nerves, hunger, holding back raw power and emotion?

"What are you feeling, Micky? What's behind that look in your eyes?"

"I'm feeling like a champagne bottle about to pop. Like a horse at the starting gate waiting for the race to begin, listening for the starter's pistol to sound. Like a bull in the ring when the red cloth just got waived. Like a tightly coiled spring just about to uncoil. And I don't even feel like I necessarily want any of it to happen just yet. I'm enjoying those seconds before anything happens. That suspense that's building, building, building. I'm out of my mind, crazy for you, wanting you, yet I want to remember this moment, these feelings – the before – because I'll never get it back. There will never be a before our first time again. So I'm trying to slow my roll and feel it all."

"Wow, that's amazing, Micky. How you take apart each moment and appreciate each second of it. You're not at all the person I thought you were when we first met. You pay attention, you savor, you make the most of things, you appreciate, you notice, you pay tribute. If anything, maybe it's me who was just going through the motions of things before I met you, stuck in a haze of ritual and what was expected of me and settling for less. You're making me feel every moment, every feeling, every nerve ending, every second of this special connection we have, and take nothing for granted. That's really living. That's really loving."

"That's why I said this isn't going to be quick. It's not going to be an act we perform, it's going to be a drama. It's going to be a ceremony. It's sacred and it's the reason why I had to tell you I love you. Because it transcends the physical pleasure I want to give and receive. A lot of it is about what's in my head and my heart. Do you feel that way, or is that just me getting romantic and over the top?"

"No, Micky, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to discourage you from feeling that way! We're definitely, definitely of one mind on that. I wouldn't be willing to give myself to you if I didn't love you. I'd never have allowed any of this if we hadn't grown this close. But the ultimate, making love, yeah, I had to have it all in place. The 'I love you' is important, it's key, it's everything. I wouldn't have it any other way. You have my permission to love me as deeply and crazily as you want to, because I feel that way about you. I'm mad about you and I hope you believe that. I'm going to give myself to you now. That's testimony to how I feel about you. You can trust that, trust me, trust us."

"Then I will. Be my everything, Gabriella. Be one with me now." Micky took her face in his hands and began to kiss her gently, then more firmly, until he was covering her with kisses and her breath became thready and uneven, and she began to be lightheaded. She was still kneeling on the bed and he was still standing in front of her. Now he eased her on her back and laid down on top of her, splaying her legs open and moving his crotch between them to show her how much he wanted her while he continued to kiss her with a deep and blanketing closeness. Now he began to rock against her, stimulating both of them, making her moan with want and need for him.

She wanted to remove all barriers between them. "Take me, Micky. Make me yours."

He sat up and started to strip off her clothes. In between his ministrations, she grabbed at his clothes when she could reach them, and he helped her along with his as well. Finally they were naked and warm, she lying underneath him, feeling his heart racketing around in his chest and echoing the beats in her own. He seemed to be having a moment of contemplation.

He knew that Gabby was no ordinary woman, and that straight up missionary sex was not going to cut it for her, and that he didn't really want it for himself either. He wanted her to have more pleasure than that, and more of a role to play in achieving it. He was also well aware from past experiences that a great percentage of women could not achieve orgasm that way anyway. Not only that, but it felt in a way that he would be subjugating her, dominating her, and he didn't want that to be their sexual introduction to each other. So he decided to turn the reins over to her.

"Come and get me, Gabby. Take me how you want me."

Gabby looked shocked and pleased at the same time. "You mean it? I can do what I want?"

"I mean it. I want you to take your pleasure first and show me how you want me to give it to you. Tell me what you want, Gabriella. What do you want?"

She sat up and raised Micky up with her, then guided his head to her breasts, which he began to lavish with attention. Kneading them, twisting the nipples, licking and sucking on white flesh and then zeroing in on her pink nipples. Then he smooshed them together and quickly darted his tongue from one nipple to the other, causing Gabby to cry out in ecstasy. 

She pushed him down on the bed and hovered over him, allowing him to continue to give her breasts attention, as she settled down onto his erection slowly. It had been a while for her and although she was slick with natural lubrication, she needed some time to adjust to having Micky inside of her. So she just sat there for a moment and sighed and wriggled a bit, while Micky laid back, grinning at her and holding still while she settled herself. Then he reached up and began to work over her breasts again and she began to moan and arch her back and lean in to his touch.

She swung her legs behind her on top of his, then she gripped the bedspread and let her arms and hips do the work. She began to ride him, letting him glide in and out of her, pressing their bodies together and allowing the friction of the contact of their two pelvises to help build up pressure in her whole uterus and the feel of Micky's pubic hair passing over her clitoris to stimulate her. Listening to the hitching, uneven cadence of her breathing, Micky knew she was approaching orgasm. 

Now he took hold of her and hugged her back and said "Come on, Gabby, come on. That's it, ride me. You've got it, do it. Go for it." Gabby heaved and writhed and moaned and continued to make contact between their middles and a tingle she felt in her thighs and spine began to make her contract and moan even louder. Micky took hold of her butt and raised his pelvis now to meet hers and push further inside her, to make as much contact as he could with her, until he was lifting her up off the bed and she felt like she was flying. This final maneuver broke the dam and her ecstasy began to pour forth in groans and shouts and affirmations: "Yes, oh Micky, yes, oh, Micky, ohhhh, Micky, you have me, yes!" Her legs were now straight out behind her with her toes extended to eke out every last ounce of pleasure. Micky was tucked inside her and she really did feel like she was flying, zipping through the air passing cloud after cloud of bliss, clinging on to his shoulders and neck for dear life. 

She laid on top of him heaving with emotion and ecstasy, while he ran his hands down her back and arms and butt and waited for her to emerge from her state of post-orgasmic haze. She raised her elbows and asked "Am I too heavy, should I move off of you?"

Micky held her firmly by the butt and said "Don't you dare move. You're right where I want you to be, and I'm where I want to be – inside of you. You stay there until you're ready to move."

She laid her head back down on his chest and said "Thanks, Micky. I feel like I was just flying and my mind's in a whirl. How do you feel?"

"Like I just witnessed something magnificent and rare and extremely erotic. A woman taking her bliss and allowing me to help her achieve it. I feel like we're partners in making love, Gabby. Like we communicate on a deep level. There's nothing routine or average about how we come together sexually. It's very personal and individual, and it's meant to give pleasure to both of us, regardless of who's having the orgasm."

Gabby nodded her head against Micky's chest. "Yes, I feel that way too. You seem very in tune with me and what I need and how to help me get there, and you don't mind my helping drive the bus or at least navigate the route. We're in it together. It's a very satisfying experience to have there be a little bit of me and a little bit of you in every sexual encounter."

"That's the title of one of our songs, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, you're right. I'll bet that's not what you guys were thinking when you put that song together though, is it?"

"No, I don't suppose so. But now when we play it, I'll think of it entirely differently."

Gabby now sat up at a ninety-degree angle to Micky, with his penis still rock hard inside her, and began to move on him. Up she slid and then back down. Up and down, up and down. He started to get glassy eyed and lose focus. She took her hands and played with his irresistible nipples, pausing to bend down and lick and bite and tease them.

"Now I'll ask you, Micky, what do you want?"

"I want tutti frutti, not vanilla. I want something that empowers both of us, and doesn't dominate or subjugate you. So that means no traditional missionary sex. Any ideas?" Micky gave her an open countenance and an encouraging smile.

"Weeeeellllll, since you mentioned it. I was thinking earlier today, when we were talking about the dogs I petted and you were saying you wanted to be sure of what species you were making love to . . . "

Daylight dawned on Micky's face and he started to get a wicked grin. "Come to me then, and I'll take you from behind. I would love that. Should we say whether we've ever done that before?"

"I'll say up front the answer is no, so that you get the pleasure of knowing that you're fulfilling a fantasy of mine," Gabby admitted.

"I'll admit that I've never done it either, so you'll be fulfilling a fantasy of mine, too," Micky confided.

Gabby hurled herself at Micky and cried "Yay!!! Aren't we a pair, aren't we just such a perfectly matched pair of weirdos?"

"Yep, you're my favorite weirdo, you're my everything, Gabby, and I look forward to getting weird and freaky and tutti frutti with you as much as you want. Not that there's anything wrong with missionary. Sometimes it's what scratches the itch. But it's basic and like using your training wheels when what you really want to do is to fly down the hill at top speed on a motorcycle, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I do, at least for this moment. And by the way, I can't wait until you finish fixing up that motorcycle so that you can show me how the world looks flashing by me on it. I love how you're showing me new things, Micky, how the world and life and love don't have to be typical and basic and safe and boring. Just letting you into my life was a risk, so what the hell else do I have to lose? I'm in it a hundred percent now for the journey. Just don't drive the motorcycle too fast that I fall on my ass and get hurt. That's all I ask. Take care of me and keep me safe."

"I will, babe, I will. Now come to me, Gabriella. I want to bend you over and take you from behind and make you moan like you've never moaned before. And you let me know if it gets to be too much. I'm not all that sure what it's going to feel like for you and I could get carried away. You should take that as a blanket statement for everything we do in our relationship. You should always stop me if I get carried away."

He began to kiss her now, and caress her gently with the very tips of his fingers. He outlined the shape of her form, from the crown of her head, past her neck down her shoulders and arms, over her waist and curvy hips, dipping back in and traveling down her thighs and calves, and ending at her feet. He sat her back on the bed and took one of her feet in his hands and began to knead it, massaging the bones and muscles, then straying back up her calf and thigh until he reached the triangle where her coochie was covered with hair and was wet with her own fluids. He switched and worked on the other foot and repeated the process on the other leg, lingering a bit longer this time when he reached her triangle, stroking her and stimulating her, preparing her for his entry. He knew she'd need extra lubrication for him to enter her from behind, and he wanted her to be relaxed and ready for him. 

He took a moment to spread her legs and kiss his way up her thighs, then center in on her love button and suck on it gently, being careful not to put too much pressure on it. He didn't want her to come yet, or become too sensitive to receive him. Finally, when he felt she was ready, he pulled her up to her feet, and had her walk to the end of the bed. He asked her "Do you want to be on your knees or lie on the edge of the bed?"

"I want to be on my knees so that you can touch me and hold me while you're taking me."

"Then get down here on the ground with me so I can really give it to you and I won't knock you over or put too much weight on you."

Gabby shuddered with delicious anticipation at Micky's estimation of the ergonomic calculations of the two scenarios, and reflected there were advantages to making love to a man with a basic knowledge of physics. 

He took a moment to embrace her tightly and grip her bottom and squeeze her buttocks, then she dropped to her knees. Catching him by surprise, before he could kneel to the ground with her, she snaked her tongue out and licked his penis, which was at just the right level of her mouth. Micky gasped with pleasure and reached for her shoulders to steady himself for a moment. Then he said "no more of that, I've got my mind on other things."

He guided her down to the floor on all fours, and moved up behind her, spreading her legs and pushing her head down towards the floor so that her rear end would rise up a bit more. He spread her open and saw her glistening, shiny hole just waiting for him to enter it. His heart gave a leap and his gut clenched with anticipation. Then he took hold of his penis and guided it carefully into her, moving very slowly and entering her by centimeters to make sure that she was not feeling any pain or discomfort.

"Talk to me, Gabriella, how are you feeling?"

"Fucking wonderful, Micky. Keep it up. Go all the way. I want all of you."

Micky was happy to oblige and relieved not to be hurting her. He slid himself in all the way to the hilt and just paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to govern his impulse to start thrusting hard immediately. The situation called for delicacy and patience. He placed his hands on her hips and gyrated his hips very slowly in a circle, asking her "How does that feel?"

"Like it tickles and I can barely feel it, Dolenz. You don't have to treat me like I'm made of porcelain. Take me. I'm yours. Claim me. Own me. Touch me. My body is your playground now. We really are one."

Micky smiled at her teasing him, though he knew that she really did appreciate his care and consideration and was just embarrassed to express it. Now he began to move in earnest, in and out, gently establishing a rhythm. Once he got accustomed to what his lower half was doing, he made use of his arms and hands, reaching forward with one hand and touching Gabby's breasts, which were hanging and swinging from side to side every time he thrust into her. He took the other hand to tickle her clitoris and see what sort of reaction that would create. Both elicited cries of pleasure and moans of approval. Now he gripped her and began to thrust harder, touching her and bracing himself against her sensitive parts to create friction for his own. He could hear her huffing and puffing like a steam engine, and she warned him of another impending orgasm and asked him to keep his hands where they were. After she cried out and rode out her orgasm, he took hold of her waist and bore down on her. He was in the home stretch of his own climax and needed to hold on tight. He wrapped his whole body around hers and felt the slick sweat of their bodies ease the movement between them as he slid over her back with his front, and then he exploded in a climax that made him shout and threatened to buckle his knees and drop him where he knelt. He used his arms to hold himself up so that he wouldn't crush Gabby. He straightened up and just continued to ride her and enter and withdraw from her until the waves of pleasure had receded to a pleasant echo.

They both crumpled in a heap of heaving, twitching limbs on the floor. They rolled on their backs and stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort out their breathing and thoughts. Micky reached for Gabby's hand and clasped it, then brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

"Micky, my Micky." She couldn't manage much more.

Micky fell back on song lyrics, a medium with which he was as conversant as the alphabet. "You tear the top right off my head, you blow my mind."

A bubble of laughter floated up from Gabby and hovered above them. 

"As Dawn says, rock on, Micky, rock on!"

Gabby flipped to her side and inquired "Want to move this party to the bed?"

Micky nodded emphatically and said "Yeah, I think I'm getting rug burn on my ass."

Gabby started to giggle uncontrollably.

"What, what?" Micky asked. "What's so funny?"

Gabby gasped through her giggles "Then it's a good thing we didn't start this party on the floor!"

"Oh, you." Micky scooped her up by the waist, hoisted her up and tossed her onto the mattress.

"Wow, you make me feel like a tiny little thing. Either you're a really strong guy or I've lost some weight. You must get some kind of workout with those drums."

Micky surveyed her and said "First of all, you're not heavy so get over that notion, and second of all, yeah, I may be skinny, but I'm deceptively strong. Davy once had to fill in for me on the drums for the whole night and he was covered in ice bags the whole day after."

"Mmmmm, that's sexy as all get out, too, Micky. I love how you've got brain and brawn. You're turning me on again."

"Oh yeah? What's next on the agenda, Miss G?"

"I don't know? What are you up for? How often can guys get it up?"

"Well, that's totally individual. Not to name any names, but if your friend Dawn isn't walking like she just got off a three-day horse ride at some point, I'll be surprised. I'll bet the only reason why she hasn't yet is she can't get enough time alone with Pete, or he can't talk her into it yet. He's a machine."

"And you know this how? From experience or bragging?"

"Well for Pete, definitely not experience with women, more like with his friend Harry Palm. But you know, guys just get erections all the time for all sorts of reasons. And you know, we guys talk, just like you girls. Plus, guys are popping up with erections all the time around each other and it's kind of hard to hide, y'know."

"No, I don't y'know. It's a total blank for me. When I hang out with guys, I'm usually busy trying to get them to take me seriously as a person, so I'm focusing on their faces. And I don't go around checking out guys' packages. See that's the difference between guys and girls. Guys stare at girls' boobs all the time, and frankly so do girls, but it wouldn't occur to me to look at a guy's dick."

"Hmph. Well guys do. They're very proud of their dicks and they're always talking about them and comparing them and checking out other guys' dicks and teasing them if they get hard, particularly if it's for no good reason."

"Oooooh, so who's got the biggest dick on the Monkees?" Gabby was squealing like a little fan girl now, getting into the spirit of the thing, determined to take advantage of this inside pipeline of information.

"Gabby, do you think I would violate the guy's code? You girls have a code and so do we."

"Dolenz, don't bullshit a bullshitter. You do not. You're just trying to frustrate me. You just told me you all are really proud of your dicks, so whoever is the biggest wouldn't mind my knowing. Tell me. Who's the biggest? You don't want to tell me because it's not you, right?"

Micky frowned a bit and admitted "That's true. You've got me." Then he laughed.

"Well I don't care. You know what my Navy boyfriend used to say? He'd say 'It's not the pickle, it's the tickle.'" 

Micky rolled his eyes. "Gabby, that's dumb. That's what a guy says when he's feeling insecure about the size of his dick."

Her face fell. "Oh, well, what did I know? I was only a dumb sixteen year old. But for the record, his dick was the same size as yours." She closed her eyes and waited for the explosion.

"Hey, that's not funny!" Micky reached for her and started to tickle her.

She started to cackle and snort with laughter as he pinned her down with her arms up and tickled her some more. 

"Okay, I give, I give. You win," she gasped.

"That wasn't true, was it?" Micky grilled her like a detective interrogating a perp.

"Well, to be honest, it was, but still, my point is that dick size doesn't really matter to women, as long as it's not too short, or frankly, too long. I personally have never seen a short dick, and I've been with one guy who had a really long dick and I think that was a waste and kind of scary and I'm really glad I never had sex with him. Don't guys realize that having a long dick isn't a great deal for the woman? How much room do you think we've got up there anyway? It gets uncomfortable at a certain point. Give me width anytime over length."

Micky felt he needed some reassurance. "So you approve of my equipment and its dimensions?"

Gabby sat up and stroked his chest and said "Very much so. You're just my size. You're beautiful. You're delicious."

Micky smiled and looked relieved and gratified.

Gabby furrowed her brow and recalled her train of thought. "So you're not going to tell me which of the Monkees has the biggest dick, are you?"

Micky kissed the tip of her nose and answered concisely "Nope. Cuz I don't know. Though I will say this – my money's on Pete or Mike."

She shrugged her shoulders and said "Fair enough. I got the best Monkee of the bunch. That's all I care about. And it has very little to do with the size of your equipment. In fact, virtually nothing. I'm not going to bother to ask you if you like my body. I'm going to take it for granted that you do. I'm not Wendy and I don't need constant reassurance, but feel free to compliment me as often as you want, and itemization is always welcome." She winked at him.

"Then that's what's next. Itemization and adoration." So Micky spent the next period of time admiring Gabby's body, part by part, telling her what he loved about it and then giving it his loving attention. He had her in a state of utter bliss and frenzy, squirming and writhing like a slithery snake, culminating in another shattering orgasm. 

"Micky, my Micky, my love?" Gabby beckoned him in a singsong voice. 

"Yes, Gabriella? What can I do for you now?"

"I want to give you some pleasure now so much, but I'm buzzing and floating and flying and all I can do is lie here. How do you feel about some vanilla? Face up or over easy?"

"I'll take it face up, but some time you can show me what over easy is."

"Mmmm, well to be honest I'm not really sure what that means, I just made that up, but I'm sure we can figure it out. Come to me, my sweet Micky. Or maybe I should say come in me," she giggled at her silly pun. She stretched her arms out to him and invited him to lie upon her. He wasn't going to let it be dull and too vanilla, however, despite Gabby's assumptions of what was in store for her. He hoisted her legs up and threw them over his shoulders, which made her giggle, then he thrust himself inside of her, this time with more force than last time, remembering her exhortation that she was not made of porcelain. Then he went to town and rutted like a wild buck, taking her fast and furiously while she giggled and encouraged him. She remarked upon the sounds of their skin slapping and cheered Micky on, like he was riding a bucking bull in a rodeo. He was smiling and looking her in the eye the whole time, as she encouraged him along. She seemed to be having the time of her life, and she observed that to her it felt like riding an amusement park ride. When Micky started making those shouty noises and indicating his peak pleasure was approaching, she cheered louder and said "Yeah, Micky! Give it all to me! Good for you! Have fun!" and he started to laugh as well as shout and moan. It was the most joyful orgasm he had ever experienced.

Through their laughter, they embraced and kissed and held each other. She held Micky until his body stopped twitching and heaving and his breathing returned to an even pace. He rolled over and laid down next to her and flopped over on his back. The air had begun to cool and the sweat on their bodies was also beginning to cool them down, so they crawled under the sheet and huddled together under it, cuddling.

Micky let his fingers play lightly over Gabby's skin, teasing her into goosebumps. She shivered with pleasure. "You've got me in such a heightened state, Micky. I never realized how stimulated my body could feel."

Micky replied "I'm not even focused on my body. My mind is blown away. It's in such a whirl. I had no idea what a fabulous, funny, wonderful, adventurous lover you were going to be, Gabby. If I had known what was in store for me, you can be damn sure I would have been dogging your heels like one of those pugs you met today. Damn, girl! You make making love like a religious experience, marching in a parade and playing hooky from school all at the same time!"

Gabby turned to Micky and asked "Really? You know, I have never had sex or made love like that before. That is really new for me. I've really only been that way with you. Either that's the real me and I'm just discovering her now, or it's you who've brought it out in me. Either way, it's only with you that I can be uninhibited in that way. You give me freedom and courage and joy. I honestly have never had so much fun and joy myself. This is like losing my virginity again. It's all brand new with you."

Micky's head snapped abruptly towards Gabby and his eyes widened in shock. "Honest and truly, Gabby?"

"Yeah, no shittin' you, Micky. You and I made magic together."

Tears sprang to Micky's eyes and he enfolded Gabby in his arms. "Oh, Gabby, thank you for telling me that. I'm so glad to be starting over fresh with you. Building something new with you. I feel reborn. We're doing things we've both never done, and having experiences that are totally new and original. That means we both get to walk away from our pasts and start something new. Isn't that fantastic? It's like being baptized, although if you celebrate Passover I take it you don't really want to be baptized, but you dig what I mean."

"Yeah, I get it. I do feel like I've got a new lease on life. Like I'm a snake that shed its old skin and slithered away from it, or maybe a butterfly that left its cocoon and is moving on to fulfill its potential now and flying off into the future. How wonderful is that? Remember how we said we both wanted a do-over? Well we got that. We got our do-over and we're making the most of it."

Micky took Gabby's cheeks in his hands and looked deeply into her hazel eyes with his own. "Gabriella, I love you – you are my everything."

"My Micky, I love you as a part of myself, because we are one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the rating on this story has been changed to Explicit

"Food, Micky, I need food." Gabby was staring up at the ceiling, wiggling her toes under the sheet. They had fallen asleep for a short nap, exhausted from their vigorous lovemaking. It was late afternoon, more like the time that elderly folks with walking frames and hearing aids would be rolling up for the early bird special at Denny's diner. 

"That sounds reasonable, Gabby. What would you like to eat?"

"I want a corndog from Hot Dog On A Stick."

Micky was nonplussed at this request. "Gabby, I don't think they have stuff like that in quaint little villages like this Oz we've landed in here. How about if we wander around and see if we can find something resembling junk food that will tide you over until dinner? I want to take you someplace halfway classy for once."

"Okay, Micky. I'll let you do that for me. Because I'm too hungry to think straight and I'm in no position to argue about the size of your bank account. I'm just going to assume you're a man of means and let you figure it out. Just don't take me somewhere that we end up washing the dishes to pay our tab. I saw that once in an Andy Hardy movie. Do you like Mickey Rooney?"

"Love him! He's so talented!"

"How lucky am I to have found a man who appreciates talent when he sees it. Okay, now how are you gonna get me out of this bed and onto the street? My legs are made of Jello."

"How about a shower to get your blood pulsing again?"

"Mmmmm, that sounds good. You coming in there with me?"

"You know it!"

"In that case, I seriously doubt we're going to be finding me that snack before dinner, are we?"

"No comment," Micky grinned. He rose from the bed, grabbed Gabby's arms, pulled her out of bed and slung her over his shoulder. She was limp and boneless and just allowed him to carry her around like a sack of potatoes. He peered into the bathroom. "Hmmm, there's a bath and a shower. Which do you want?"

"Shower to wake up now, bath to go to sleep later," Gabby requested.

Micky started up the shower and they climbed in. They gazed at each other through the curtain of spraying water, their lips met and they clutched each other in a loving embrace. Then Micky reached behind Gabby and turned the tap down until the water temperature plunged about thirty degrees. Gabby shrieked and he hooted with laughter.

"You dirty rat!" Gabby cried as she hopped away from the frigid water's reach.

"Hey, that's my line! My Jimmy Cagney impression is the finest you'll ever hear, not to mention my ultimate combination of Cagney and Fred Astaire – you've got to see that one!" 

Gabby lunged for the taps and readjusted the water back to something resembling body temperature. She grabbed a washcloth and started to whip Micky's heiny with it. "You're gonna get it, Micky!" 

"Hey, well you're awake, aren't you?" he teased.

"Let me think. Hmmm, yep, I'm awake. You're a genius." Gabby rolled her eyes.

Micky grabbed the washcloth from Gabby and said "Let me take care of you and get you all nice and clean." He lathered up the soap on the cloth and started to run it over her torso, taking his time as he rubbed her breasts and nipples. Her frowning eyes turned hazy and her breath began to break into gasps and then moans. He took his fingers and rubbed them over the soap and then applied them to her nipples and swiped them slickly over her flesh and she arched her back into his touch, grabbing onto the tile trying to gain traction to hold herself up. Micky moved his knee and thigh between her thighs, lifted it into her crotch and ground it into her as she leaned in to him. 

She grabbed the soap from him and lathered up her own hands. She slicked up his penis and began to pull and caress it. They brought each other to another climax each, Micky first, then after he came, he used his hands and finished what his leg couldn't accomplish. Then they washed each other's hair and cleaned up the traces of their lovemaking. They climbed out of the shower and dried each other off, each stumbling a bit in a post-coital haze that was becoming the status quo that day.

Gabby laid back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling again. Micky laid down next her and took her hand.

"Micky?"

"Yes, Gabby?"

"I can wait until dinner to eat. I just need to rest a bit. I'm all tingly again."

"Okay, babe. Whatever you want."

"Micky?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"How many orgasms is that for me today?"

"I can't remember. Want me to figure it out?"

"Nah, it's okay. I can just say with certainty it's the most I've ever, ever, ever had with a guy in one day."

"What about without a guy?"

"Well, that's a lot easier. I'm looking forward to breaking that record with you someday."

"Cool. Me, too."

"Micky? What about you? Is that a lot of orgasms for you to have in a day?"

"Yeah, babe. That's a lot. To be honest, no one has ever stuck around that long for me to have that many."

"Should I feel sad about that for you or proud of myself?"

"You should feel how you feel, Gabby, but if I were you, I'd feel good about yourself and know how special you are." 

Around 6:30, Micky shook Gabby gently by the shoulder and she stirred. He asked her if she was ready to venture out in search of dinner. She agreed that she was and they got dressed. They wore some clothes that were a bit nicer than they normally would in case they found a fancier restaurant they could actually afford to eat at. They found a French bistro that was actually pretty casual and not terribly pricey and decided to eat there. They grabbed a table at the bar and enjoyed the ambiance and banter with the jovial waiter. It wasn't a snooty place, more like the kind of place the Lost Generation would hang out and get drunk at and share pages from their latest novels and poems with each other. Gabby ordered Coq au Vin, a dish of chicken cooked in wine with mushrooms and onions. Micky got Steak Frites, which is basically a huge steak with Béarnaise sauce and French fries. He was feeling very adventurous, so he ordered an appetizers of snails, at which Gabby turned up her nose. 

"Micky, I grew up in Palos Verdes, where we've got those suckers crawling all over our gardens! I remember the worst would be that I'd be walking around after dark and I'd step on one by accident and that awful sound of crushing the shell and the slimy feel of the body squashing under my foot – uch!" She shuddered and curled her lip. "But you go right ahead and enjoy yourself." She rolled her eyes. Gabby opted for chicken liver pate on a baguette, which she split with Micky. The waiter also brought over a small dish of cornichons, which are sour pickles, and some long carrot sticks covered with a tangy horseradish sauce.

Once Micky was done eating his snails, Gabby dipped her bread in the garlic butter sauce that was left in the small indentations in the dish the snails came in. "Hey, you said you didn't like snails!" Micky elbowed her out of the way.

"Yeah, but I never said I didn't like what they come soaked in! You gotta learn how to read the fine print when you're making a bargain with me, Dolenz!" She took a carrot stick and stuck it in his mouth, then took hold of the other half of it and kissed him and broke it off in her mouth.

Micky smiled at her as he crunched his carrot and asked "Are you happy, Gabby? Have you had a good trip?" 

"I'm blissfully happy. I'm not looking forward to going back to real life, though actually I don't really have a real life to go back to."

"What are your plans? What's your next move?"

"Well, I have a few ideas, a few connections from my college days I'm going to tap. I'm going to try and make a place for myself where nothing exists right now. I've been looking around for something for a while and just can't find what I'm looking for, so I think I'm just going to have to create a situation for myself that works for me. I'll keep you posted. I don't want to tip my hand yet."

Micky ran his finger along his chin and looked impressed. "You've got me intrigued. I hope you'll at least let me be the first to know. Or do boyfriends not rate above the girl gossip chain?"

"Well, that's a good question. To be honest, up at Berkeley, I got so isolated, I didn't have any girlfriends towards the end. Would you mind if I consider it as part of my therapy that it's cool if I tell my girlfriends things before you if that's what feels okay to me?"

"Sure, Gabby, of course. That makes perfect sense. I'm not on an ego trip. I can totally understand that. I'm glad you put it that way. I would never want you to feel like you were torn between loyalties. That was silly of me to even ask. Sorry about that. I guess I'm just so excited to have you in my life I keep looking for all the specialness and milestones. But you're absolutely right. You've got to be absolutely free to do what you want and need to do."

Gabby's eyes shimmered with tears and she hiccuped with emotion. She scooted her chair closer to Micky and hugged him and buried her head in his chest. As he stroked her sleek hair he reassured her "Hey, it's okay, no need to cry. I didn't mean to open up a sore spot. I'm sorry. I'm a dope. I told you to give me a kick in the ass if I got ahead of myself and let my enthusiasm get out of control. Gabby? Look at me?"

She sobbed once more and then looked up at him. "It's okay, Micky. I'm not really upset at you. I just realized how caged and isolated I used to be, and how free I am now. It's hard for me to remember back to those days, but I'm happy about how things are now. You just reminded me how good I have it now. I didn't mean to freak you out or make you feel bad. It's really wonderful to be loved this much. I just never want to be possessed again. I want to be loved but not owned. Cherished but not controlled. And never manipulated or coerced or told what I should do or that what I chose to do is the wrong thing because I disobeyed some rule or because somebody told me that self-confidence was really arrogance and cockiness."

Micky hugged her again and said "I know babe, I know. I'll never do that to you. As you get to know me better, you'll realize what a pushover I am, and how much you'll have me wrapped around your little finger." He laughed now and she joined him with a small giggle and a sniffle.

"That's my girl. Good to hear you laughing. That's how I always want you to be. Happy and never afraid of sharing what's on your mind. Even if it's painful for you, I want you to tell me what's on your mind so that I can apologize or we can clear the air. Chances are there's just been a misunderstanding and I just need to rephrase what I meant or I need to hear what your thoughts are and get a reality check and rethink my approach to something. But always, always, we keep our lines of communication open, right?"

Gabby looked him dead in the eye now and said "Yes, that's our promise. That's how we'll stay on the same page and stay as one." 

The rest of their food came and they dove in and ate with relish. Gabby realized that she was absolutely famished and was tempted to eat every morsel of food on her plate, but she held back in case there was something yummy for dessert. Micky did his usual Cookie Monster from Sesame Street impression and plowed through his food with dispatch. The waiter brought over a dessert menu, and they decided to split an order of profiteroles, which were puffed choux pastry, split in half with vanilla ice cream in the middle, covered in hot chocolate sauce. The waiter made a big production of pouring the chocolate sauce from a bright yellow pitcher from a great height, allowing the sauce to hit the dessert in a thin ribbon that he moved from side to side in a swirly design. He told Gabby to say "when" when she thought there was enough. She cried "when" but Micky said "more, more!" and she shrieked as she watched the sauce begin to drown the dessert. Finally Micky was satisfied and the waiter left with a grin on his face.

"Micky, you're going to end up with diabetes and a set of false teeth before your 25th birthday at the rate you're going!" she laughed.

Micky moved his lips over his teeth to conceal them and said "Yeth, but what a way to go!"

They fed each other bites of the dessert and Gabby swirled their initials in the sauce left on the plate when the food was gone. Micky took his spoon and wrote "I LUV U" and then winked at Gabby. She swooned and gave him a smooch on the cheek.

They walked around town and looked in the windows of the quaint little shops and galleries, then headed down to the beach. As they prowled the surf, the sun descended and was about to hit the waterline and Gabby asked "Can you hear it sizzle?"

Micky cocked his head and asked "What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's just something Wendy and I used to believe when we would hang out at the cliffs at sundown. We'd swear we could hear the sun sizzle as it hit the horizon."

"Yeah, I can hear it sizzle. Tssssss..." Micky played along.

"I love that you get me, Micky. You know Wendy wanted me to go for you, too. Dawn and Wendy both were in your corner. You should probably buy them each a fruit basket or something."

He laughed and said "Yeah, well I made my fellow Monkees look like choir boys in comparison, so they probably owe me a little something, too. Not only that, but that first time we went out to Eat at Ed's? I lied. That was the first time we ever did that. So they can thank me for that first date, too."

"You dirty rat!" Gabby grumbled.

"I was determined to woo you, and I was willing to lie and go all Andy Hardy to do it. You know, the diner and the jukebox and the whole nine yards. To be honest, it was a total turn-on and I absolutely loved it. I was crushed when you shut me down."

"Good. You deserved it. But I'm glad you persevered." Gabby smiled and ran her hands through Micky's hair and combed it out of his eyes, looking up at him earnestly.

He returned her gaze and replied "Gabby, my whole life turned around that night and I made up my mind I was going to change everything about it from then on. I never looked back, and even if you had never given me another chance, I was never going to go back to the way things were. That's the effect you had on me. You were earth-shattering for me."

"Wow. So we're both starting our lives over. Do you feel raw, or just reborn? I feel both. I know I feel the happiness of rebirth, but I feel like the new layer of skin that's been exposed is kind of raw and sensitive."

"I feel reborn and a little like a colt learning how to walk. My legs don't work so well and I stumble a bit, like I did at dinner. I'm not real smooth and I'm going to stumble and say dumb things and get a bit overeager and overshoot the mark. So I hope you'll bear with me and remember that I'm like a gawky teenager in some ways. I'm learning how to love and be true to you and to us and to do right by you like I've never done for anyone before. Like I told you before, I'm probably going to disappoint you, and I think you're probably going to do that to me, too, but in different ways. We're human, not robots. But it's okay. Because we love each other, and because, like you said, we are one. We'll be there to pick each other up when one of us falls. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, that's so. It all feels very new and a bit scary, but mostly wonderful and lovely."

"Can we go back to the room? I promise not to touch the TV remote or your sensitive bits either. I imagine by now you're pretty worn out. I just want to lie down with you and _be_. Maybe read our books. I'm ready to drop."

"Me too. That sounds lovely, Micky. Let's go."

They went back to the room and Gabby decided to take a bath. Micky climbed in with her, but true to his word, he didn't come on to her or touch her in a sexual way. They soaked in the warm water, and he gave her a foot massage. They didn't talk much either. They just gazed at each other and silently appreciated the quiet and the warmth of the water and each other's company. Then they dried each other thoroughly, put on their pajamas, and brushed their teeth.

They snuggled together and cracked open their books. Micky was in the homestretch of _Fahrenheit 451_ and Gabby was reading _Murder on the Orient Express_ , another by Agatha Christie. Micky smoothed his hand over Gabby's sleek hair as he read and she played with the leg of his pajama pants with her toes. Micky eventually fell asleep over his book and she took the book from his hands, placed his bookmark in it and put it on the table next to the bed. She pulled the blanket up over Micky and kissed his cheek. Being a night owl, she continued to read and stole a look at him every once in a while. Occasionally he'd make that whiffling sound as his breath escaped his mouth in a gentle snore and she'd giggle quietly to herself. Eventually she tired and turned off the light. She counted her blessings as she dropped off to sleep, remembering all the wonderful highlights of their road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the rating on this story has been changed to Explicit

Micky woke to the sensation of Gabby raking her fingers through his hair. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly, "but I had you right where I wanted you and I just couldn't resist."

He sat up, cracked one eye open, located her lips and gave her a peck and then laid back down. "Don't apologize, carry on. Mmmmm..."

They lay there for a bit longer and then Micky cracked his eye open again and said "Gabby, what's your opinion on morning sex?"

She giggled and responded "Well, I say, in for a penny, in for a pound."

Now Micky was wide awake and all hands and kisses and everywhere at once, overwhelming her with attention. He quickly had her naked and slithered out of his own pajamas and she crawled on top of him and started to go to town. 

"You like it that way, don't you Gabby?" he asked her as she took her pleasure and moaned and he caressed her.

"I confess, I do. It hits me in the right spot. I guess it touches that spot inside me that you found with your fingers."

"Wow, two plus two equals four! That makes sense."

She bore down on him now, squeezing him with her inner muscles and he suddenly could not speak for the ecstasy he was feeling. She tittered with laughter. "You like that, Micky?"

"Urgh . . . Yeah, I didn't know you could do that."

"Oh yeah, baby. We've got muscles in there. Now bring me home to papa."

He grabbed hold of her and thrust into her again and again as she clenched him harder inside her until she was murmuring her pleasure and affirming to the universe and anyone else who was listening (hopefully not the people in the room next door) how fan-fucking-tastic that felt. Then she buried her head in his neck and waited to see what he'd do next.

Micky stayed on his back and began to thrust upward again. Gabby changed the orientation of her body, sitting up astride him, so that he could move even more deeply inside her and he ground and thrust into her until he had that telltale look on his face that let her know he was about to emit the shout that accompanied one of his orgasms. She decided to spare their neighbors the early morning wakeup call, so she quickly covered his mouth with a deep kiss and let him emote into her mouth instead. She continued to kiss him tenderly on his face and mouth and neck as he came back down to earth. Then she climbed off him and headed for the shower.

"Hey, you've seduced and abandoned me!" Micky cried.

"No, but if I don't take a shower by myself, we will never check out of this room and we have to be out soon and back on the road. I'm being sensible for once. One of us has to."

"Spoil sport," Micky grumbled. He was waiting with a towel to dry her off when she emerged from the shower, then he hopped in and cleaned off the traces of their morning tryst. Gabby returned the favor and sat on the toilet waiting with a dry towel for him and patted all his parts dry.

"What's for breakfast?" Micky inquired.

"Well, we're in this quaint, hoity toity village. We could go find a pricey little café. But to be honest, what I've really got my mind on is the Daily Double at Denny's."

Micky laughed and put his arms around her. "Gabby, you sure are a cheap date! What am I going to do with you if I become successful and start making some real money? Are you going to let me treat you right and take you to nice places?"

She looked at him as she stood at the mirror and fluffed her hair dry with the towel, then combed it into place. "Let's cross that bridge when we get there, but yes, when you hit the big time, I will let you pamper me and spoil me once in a while, but I want to stay true to my beliefs and who I am. You know my brother still goes to Denny's to get his free Grand Slam breakfast on his birthday every year, and he's making good money now as an accountant? I guess it runs in the family. The theme for my Sweet Sixteen party was 'tasteful but tacky' and I had all sorts of crazy homemade decorations, like I tied ribbons in bows on tree branches, and people bought me gifts from Goodwill and I wore a sequined vintage sweater. That's just me. But don't be fooled. I grew up in a life of luxury – you saw where I came from. I already know how the other half lives. I just choose not to live it. Money isn't where it's at for me. Now my little brother is going to be stinkin' rich. He works as a stock broker and he's not even out of college yet, and he's been reading the Wall Street Journal since he was eleven years old. Money is his _raison d'être_. My sister isn't hung up on money either, though she's all about having enough to retire at a young age so she can travel the world and have time to experience new things later on. She lives very simply, like I do. But you get a vote here, too, Micky. Half of this getaway is your fantasy. What do you want to do? I'm up for whatever makes you happy. I really love it when you're happy, and I'm up for new adventures." 

Micky paused and thought to himself. "To be honest, for now, I think I'd rather keep living the Denny's life myself. I'm not ready for the next step. I'm glad you're not one of those women who need me to try and impress her with expensive things. It's yet another reason to love you and cherish you. If we do build a future together and we ever do find we've got money lying around, I'd rather put it towards more meaningful things which we've agreed not to mention for now. So how about we hit the road and pull over at the first Denny's we see? Highway 101 is loaded with 'em."

"Sounds like a good plan." Gabby slipped her arms around Micky's waist and gave him a soft kiss on the lips and burrowed her head in his comforting chest. He stroked her sleek bob and marveled at its smoothness for the hundredth time, then ran his lips over it.

They stopped at the reception desk and Micky paid the bill, while Gabby looked discreetly away so as not to embarrass Micky by knowing just how much dough he had dropped on this little getaway. Then they made their way out into the sunshine and got settled into the Monkeemobile and took off. They stopped at the Denny's in Soledad right off the highway, and each got a king sized breakfast on the theory that they probably wouldn't bother stopping again until they made it home to Malibu.

They sang to the radio on the way home, exchanging opinions about the types of music they were listening to, and swapping memories that the songs evoked. The conversation meandered into their thoughts on topics of philosophy, politics, religion (Micky's lack thereof and Gabby's, which was more based on a cultural identification to Judaism, ethics and politics than ritual) and whether Superman or Wonder Woman was the superior superhero. This last topic came to a draw when Gabby challenged Micky's source knowledge, since he hadn't actually read the Wonder Woman comic books and she had read those plus the Superman oeuvre, and she accused him of talking out of his ass. He declared himself chastened and rebuked and vowed to get up to speed by reading through Gabby's back issues before he spoke again in a definitive manner on the subject. Gabby smiled at Micky's humility and openness to learning and most of all his love of reading and told him so.

They arrived back at the Pad and Gabby stopped inside to use the bathroom and retrieve her car keys from Mike. Mike was sitting on the couch, just staring out the window, doing nothing. This seemed odd to Gabby, who had never seen Mike idle. True, he wasn't the whirling dervish of nervous energy that Micky was, but Mike was always doing _something_ productive, be it with regard to the band's music or business, or cleaning around the house or just goosing the other guys to get their acts together and be productive themselves.

"Hey, Mike," Gabby greeted him and walked over to the couch to give him a hug. He was stiff as a board and received her with no emotion. Her radar immediately was clanging. "What's up, Mike? What's happened? Are you okay?"

Mike looked at her with cool, coal black eyes, giving nothing away. "Nothin's wrong, Gabby. Everythin's just peachy keen."

Gabby sank down on the couch with him and kept her arm around his shoulder and said "Now Mike, I haven't known you for very long, but I can tell something's off. I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me about it, but I hope you'll talk to one of the guys about it."

Mike looked at her for a moment as if he might crack and give in and tell all, but then he pursed his lips and shook his head and said "Nope, I'm fine. Just fine. Life's a frickin' bowl of cherries."

She rose now and said "Okay, Mike, if you say so. I just came by to get my keys back so I can drive home. Do you have them or you can just tell me where they are and I'll go find them."

He walked to the kitchen and retrieved them from a hook and put them in her hand. Again, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he held back and pressed his lips in a tight, straight line.

"Thanks for letting us take the Monkeemobile, Mike. It was real fun riding in it. I'll see you soon, I hope. Most certainly at the next gig." Gabby was trying to play for time and give him an opportunity to change his mind and spill whatever it was that was troubling him, but for now it seemed a hopeless case.

He looked at her skeptically and said "Yeah, well, maybe you'll be at the next gig. Maybe you won't want to be. We'll see." He turned and walked up the twisty staircase and shut his bedroom door.

Gabby and Micky both looked at each other in alarm. Gabby spoke first. "Micky, you don't think Mike doesn't like me coming to the gigs, do you? You think he doesn't like us dating?"

Micky shook his head. "Nah, nah, that can't be it, and even if it was, I wouldn't stand for it and it wouldn't make any difference to me. You'd still be my girl and I'd still want you at the gigs. No, there's something weird going on with Mike. That reference to the gigs. I wonder if there's something that happened with him and Wendy and he thinks you're going to ditch us for her. What do you think?"

Gabby looked heavenward and heaved a big breath, then dropped her shoulders in defeat. "Ahhhh, fuck. I told her she was gonna mess things up. She's always got to do things her own way. I'll bet she and Mike had a fight."

Micky looked totally bewildered. "Gabby, what are you talking about?"

Gabby looked at Micky and smoothed a lock of his hair out of his eyes. "Micky, I can't tell you what I think might be up because it's Wendy's business and it would be breaking girls' code to talk about it with you without having spoken to her first, plus it would be breaking our own code that we just established in the car, which is we don't talk out of our asses when we don't have all the facts. I think you ought to talk to Mike about it and get his take on it, then I'll go talk to Wendy and find out what she's got to say, and we can both talk about it unreservedly on the phone tonight. Is that cool with you?"

Micky sighed and said "Yeah, you're right. That's probably the best way to approach it. I'll go up and talk to Mike now. Whatever it is though, Gabby, it's got nothing to do with you and me, and I hope to hell you won't stop coming to our gigs. I know your girls mean the world to you, but I love you and I need you there. When I said that night I got mauled that you were my everything, I really meant it. I feel like I can't get through one of those gigs without you anymore. It doesn't feel safe and it doesn't feel right and it doesn't mean what it should mean if you're not there to share it with me. Maybe it's me still freaking out about what happened, or maybe it's just how much I love you and value your presence, or maybe it's both, but for now, I'd really like you to be there if you can."

Gabby's jaw went slack and she was stunned by this admission. "Wow. Thank you for telling me that. I'm floored. And I'm honored. Okay, Micky. I promise to support you through your gigs no matter what. If you need me, then I'll be there for you. We are one."

Micky took her in his arms and held her tightly, burying his head in her neck and kissing it. "Thank you, Gabby. Thank you for that support." 

Gabby hugged him back fiercely. "I had better scoot home now. There's trouble brewing on the horizon, I can tell. Thank you for the lovely romantic getaway, Micky. It felt like we crossed over into another dimension."

"Hey, are you a Twilight Zone nut, too? You keep letting your inner geek peek out, Gabby, you're not foolin' me a bit!" Micky grinned and rubbed noses with her.

"It's one of my guilty pleasures, for sure," Gabby admitted with a grin.

"Gabby, we were sooooo made for each other. I'm glad you finally let me convince you of that! Thanks for coming on the trip and sharing yourself with me. I had the best time of my life." Micky's eyes glazed over as he started to recall the trip's highlights. "We'll make many more happy memories and fun times together, my Gabriella."

He walked Gabby to the car and helped her settle her gear in it, then opened the door and handed her the keys. They hugged once more fiercely and kissed passionately, then she whispered "I'll call you as soon as I know what the sitch is," and climbed into her car and drove away. Micky waved and looked back at the Pad with some dread, knowing he was going to have to face the dragon Nesmith and try to pry out of him the cause of his bleak mood and see what sort of intervention was necessary to try to put things straight between him and Wendy, if that in fact was the source of his trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	30. Chapter 30

Gabby entered her apartment and was greeted by a disconcerting sight, or rather, two disconcerting sights. First of all, Wendy was on the couch, huddled under a plaid blanket with a gallon bucket of ice cream in her lap and tears streaming from her face. Dawn was moving towards her with a steaming cup of tea, but she was walking very strangely, with tender, tentative steps and a pained look on her face, as if she were in physical discomfort of some indeterminate source that lay in her nether regions.

Gabby rushed towards the girls, grabbed the mug from Dawn and walked it over to Wendy, to Dawn's gratitude since every step was an effort and agony for her. She embraced Dawn first in a hug and then plopped herself down on the couch and engulfed Wendy in a bear hug and began to stroke her unkempt, dirty hair.

Gabby looked at Wendy and said "I was at the Pad to pick up my keys from Mike and he looked like a zombie. I looked at his eyes and the lights were on but nobody was home. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong but I had a feeling it had something to do with you. Seeing you in this state, I take it my intuition was correct?

Wendy tried to form words but they came out as unintelligible whimpers, and a huge snot bubble emerged from her nose, which she wiped away with her sleeve. She looked beseechingly at Dawn to fill Gabby in on both their sorry situations.

Dawn said "Well, I'll tell you about my less tragic and funnier though much more annoying situation first, which is the explanation for why I'm hobbling around. But Gabby, don't you DARE laugh at me!" She fixed Gabby with a death stare and Gabby reared back with her palms up in surrender.

Dawn continued. "Peter came over the night you guys left for your trip up north because Wendy was going to stay at the Pad with Mike since Micky was going to be gone and they'd have the room to themselves. Well, Peter and I have been doing this thing where I let him live out his fantasies to try to put him at ease with getting used to having sex, and this time his fantasy was to keep having sex continually without pulling out. I mean, that guy never really gets soft. He just sort of just comes and then catches a second wind and goes at it again. So after about the fifth time I called time out and needed to take a soak in a tub with Epsom salts and here I am now. I feel..."

Gabby interjected "Like you just got off a three-day horseback ride?"

"Exactly." Dawn succinctly confirmed Gabby's description. "How'd you know?"

Gabby was trying to stifle a giggle but a tiny one escaped. Dawn fixed her with an evil eye. "I'm sorry, Dawn, I really am. I don't mean to make light of your situation. I'm just thinking of something Micky told me about men when I asked him how many times per day they can get it up. We were comparing him to the other Monkees and he said Peter was a machine and he kind of predicted you might end up in this situation someday."

Dawn now flashed a look of disbelief at Gabby and said "But I thought Peter was a virgin! Don't tell me he's been bullshitting me all this time! I'll murder the bastard."

Gabby put her arm around Dawn and soothed her down, reiterating the conversation she had with Micky about erections and male priapism and the competitiveness over dick size and stamina that reigned in the Pad. Now Dawn also wanted to know who had the biggest dick of the four and Gabby told her that while Micky said he didn't know, he did say he thought either Peter or Mike were probably the best endowed. This made Dawn feel proud and pleased, though still extremely sore.

"There's a downside to size, I'm figuring out," Dawn conceded.

"That's what I've been telling Micky!" Gabby chipped in, "though in your case, honey, there's also such a thing as overuse. I would say Pete just needs to pace himself."

Now she turned to Wendy, who had been sitting in a state of catatonic silence and asked "Okay, now tell me what's going on with our maverick here. What kind of mess has she gotten herself into? You're obviously going to have to tell me since Wendy appears to be in a state of shock and self-pity and isn't going to spill it. What happened?"

Dawn took a deep breath and launched into her tale of Wendy woe.

"Wendy went over to Mike's house the night you left, like I said, and they were having a nice, romantic dinner. Mike even cooked for her. A guy who can cook – can you beat that? They had the place to themselves because Pete was here with me, Micky was on the road with you, and Davy was over at Lynda's to give Mike and Wendy some privacy. So after dinner, Mike and Wendy are getting friendly and Wendy decides to just blurt out that she's got some news to tell Mike that he's not going to like and she may as well get it out of the way now since he's probably going to dump her and she can't live with herself any longer but she's not budging and she's going to live her life her own way and that's that. And then she spills the beans about the roadie gig she accepted with Buffalo Springfield at the Monterey Pop Festival as a _fait accompli_."

Now Gabby turned to Wendy and asked "You didn't ease your way into the discussion, no sweet talk, no getting him drunk on wine at least, or buttering him up or anything? You just planted your feet on the ground like a selfish three-year-old refusing to take her nap and said this is what I want and I'm doing it?"

Wendy looked at Gabby through tear-filled eyes and silently nodded her head.

"So what was Mike's reaction to this remarkable statement of stubborn frankness?"

Dawn resumed the narration as Wendy appeared to be capable of only mute yes or no answers for the moment. "So Mike naturally is confused and a bit put out by the fact that Wendy is taking this confrontational tone right from the start. He first was also a wee bit upset at the fact that she didn't consult him on a life decision that he felt was a serious move that affected Wendy's safety – something that naturally concerns him because he loves her (oh yeah, he picked that moment to tell her he loves her), plus he felt frozen out of Wendy's career aspirations, she never having said a peep to him about wanting to be in the music business herself. He told her that that was something he'd have liked to have known about her and shared with her, seeing as how he has the same goal as she does and wants to eventually be a music producer himself, which she'd have known if she'd have ever fucking talked about it with him. Further, he thought that they were partners now, and would have liked to have been consulted about whether he thought it was a wise move for her to be putting herself into that type of situation where she could be endangering her safety, since Mike knows a thing or two-hundred about the music business by now and could have maybe given her some valuable input on what she was getting herself into. Instead of which, he said she was treating him more like her father than a lover and he didn't take too kindly to that all. And the kicker is that Wendy went off on a feminist screed that she was her own person, a woman in charge of her own destiny and shouldn't have to clear anything with Mike and that he was being a patriarchal pain in the ass and that he wasn't her daddy or her master. To which Mike replied, yeah, but I thought we were partners in life and love but I guess not. And then he started to cry."

Gabby looked to Wendy for confirmation of this as an accurate summary of events and again, Wendy merely nodded her head and leaked out some more tears. The she ate another scoop of ice cream and grabbed another tissue to wipe her nose and the drops of cream that had missed her mouth.

Dawn gave an exasperated sigh. "Now we're coming to the really irritating, pathetic part of the saga. Mike proceeds to tell Wendy that all her skullduggery and sneaking around him and blowing off his participation in her life was even more hurtful and unnecessary, because the Monkees have backstage invitations to attend the Festival courtesy of Buffalo Springfield, because Stephen Stills is an old buddy of Peter's from back when they both used to play at cafés in the Village in New York, and that Mike could have been there to be supportive to her and watch over her and make sure that things went well for her, and maybe even help her make better connections than the ones she's going to make on her own because he loves her and would have wanted to do that for her. But she didn't trust him enough to even open a mouth about her being at the Festival before she just went ahead and committed to her own plans. Then Wendy accused Mike of not trusting her either because he hadn't told her about the Monkees being there and Mike denied it and claimed that one of the reasons why he asked her over that night was to extend the invitation because he wanted to do it privately and not in front of the whole gang and he wanted it to be special between just the two of them and not all hurried in between group dates with the others. So Mike told Wendy if she felt like he wasn't trustworthy, she ought to leave, but she said she couldn't because that would interfere with Peter's and my plans to be alone, so she slept in Peter's bed and Mike slept upstairs and then she left the Pad before Mike woke up."

"Where did she go? Did she come home and wake you and Peter?" Gabby asked.

"No, she did not." Dawn shook her head in disgust. "She stopped off at the International House of Pancakes and ate her way through the left side of the menu and _then_ she came home after she figured Peter would be gone, which was very considerate of her but very hard on her gut. She also stopped at the supermarket and cleaned out the junk food aisle and has been subsisting on Mint Milano cookies, ice cream and Fritos, plus buckets of soda and Pepto Bismol to wash it all down. But you can pretty much tell that by the wrappers and cans strewn about the couch and taking an inventory of the stains on her shirt." At this point, Dawn and Gabby were conversing as if Wendy either was a deaf mute or wasn't in the room at all.

"So now, instead of Mike and Wendy going to the Festival together and each of them doing their thing and being able to be mutually supportive to each other, they're not on speaking terms and they've basically broken up and Wendy's miserable and now you say Mike's miserable too. Frankly that's the first bit of good news we've had since this whole thing went down, because if Mike's miserable, then maybe that means he still cares about and loves Wendy and we can get the two of these two stubborn asses back together if they'll climb off their high horses and apologize to each other. Though I'll tell you, Wendy, you owe Mike way more of an apology than he does you. All you did is treat him like a non-entity in your life, while his only sin is having bad timing and not inviting you before you acted like a stubborn maverick and accepted the job before including him in your deliberations." Dawn was on a roll and Gabby laid her hand on her arm now to still the fearsome tide and try to give Wendy a chance to catch up to them and maybe get a word in edgewise, should she now feel equal to the task.

Gabby now turned to Wendy and said "Wendy, I think Dawn's read on the situation is a pretty fair one. Do you have anything to add that makes the situation read any different? Any mitigating factors in your favor that make you seem less like the hard-headed jackass maverick that I warned you you were being?"

Wendy hung her head and shook it side to side in the negative.

"Okay, well, on the drive up to Carmel, Micky mentioned to me that they had been invited to the Festival and it occurred to me that this could save the situation. I had no idea that Wendy would jump the gun while I was away and spill the beans to Mike. And before you grill me and jump my shit, no, I didn't mention anything to Micky about Wendy's Buffalo Springfield gig. In fact, I didn't even accept his invitation to go with them, I just said I'd think about it. But I really do think that their invitation is the key to saving this whole situation. What we've got to do to get this train back on the track is to reassure Mike of Wendy's basic good nature and just acquaint him with some of her natural character flaws that _she's going to work very hard to get rid of now that she's in a committed, loving relationship_ , right, Wendy?" Gabby fixed Wendy with a glare and put emphasis on each word.

Wendy still was unable to speak and she just nodded weakly.

Gabby continued. "Then we need to reassure Mike that all of us girls will be at the Festival and will take responsibility for looking after Wendy and making sure she doesn't get into any trouble, and we won't interfere with whatever business the Monkees will be doing while they're there. The whole point of them going to the Festival is for them to mingle and meet record executives, talent scouts and bands, and make connections to help them on to the next leg of their career and maybe score them a recording contract or a tour. So we need to also be as supportive of them as we can. We cannot be bringing excess baggage and drama. So if we can't get Mike and Wendy back together . . . "

Now Wendy made her first audible sound, wailing and sobbing and whimpering, necessitating that Gabby pause and soothe her down and smooth her hair and pat her shoulders.

"As I was saying, if we can't get Mike and Wendy back together, then Wendy, you're just going to have to take the consequences and do your own thing at the Festival. I told Micky that if I do go, I would support him. Plus, I think I may be able to score a job lead with that invite. There's a paper a friend of mine from college is an editor for and he might be willing to hire me to cover the Festival and that could help me get my foot in the door for a more permanent job. I would ask Micky if it's okay to use that as an in, though, because I don't want him to think I'm using my connection to him to get ahead in life. You see how that works, Wendy? Communication beforehand, before you make a life decision."

Now Dawn spoke. "So what's our game plan? How do we turn this ship around?"

"I told Micky to try to pry the story out of Mike and that I'd get the scoop from Wendy and that we'd reconvene over the phone if that's okay with Wendy. Wendy, can I call Micky and try to see what kind of repair work can be done on this?"

Wendy nodded her head and blew her nose into a handful of Kleenex. She finally spoke now. "Thanks, Gabby. I know I should have listened to you. In fact, I know I should have talked to Mike first before I took the job. I owe him a huge apology and we need to talk and sort everything out. It's all mixed up in my mind – the things I want for myself and where Mike fits in to all that. We just had never talked about that before, and I was still operating under the old set of rules like I was a single person without a life partner or boyfriend or whatever he is. Maybe that's the first thing we need to sort out – what we are to each other. Maybe I took him for granted or had such a low opinion of myself I thought he couldn't possibly care that much about me or I put up another wall because I didn't want to get hurt, but not only did I get hurt anyway, but I hurt him something awful."

"Yes, you did, Wendy, but I can totally see your point of view and it's very understandable why you had that mindset. I think if you explain it to Mike just like that, he will probably understand and maybe forgive you." Gabby agreed. "Let me talk to Micky and see what we can do to get you two talking to each other again. That's where it's got to start. You have to get back in the same room and talk to each other. If that means Dawn and I need to vacate this place and give it to you for a night so you can have privacy, that's what we'll do, right Dawn?"

"Sure. I just hope the bathtub at the Pad is clean. I really need to soak every hour or so for the next day or so."

"Oy, _chica_. I'm sorry you're in such pain. Have you tried an ice pack?"

"No, but I have a feeling that would just numb the pain and then it would come roaring back. I'll stick with Epsom salts. My _abuela_ always swears by them." Dawn grimaced but looked reassured at taking her grandmother's advice.

"Okay, let me go call Micky and see what's up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	31. Chapter 31

Gabby gave Micky a ring and fortunately he was the one to answer the phone at the Pad. "Micky, it's me. Have you been able to get the story from Mike?"

"I think so, but he's a pretty taciturn, stoic guy, and I'm sure you got way more detail than I did. Why don't you give me the version you heard and then I'll fill you in on anything else I heard."

So Gabby repeated the story Dawn told her that Wendy affirmed.

Micky mhmmed and yupped his way through the conversation and basically confirmed that the few bits of information he was able to pry out of Mike conformed to the more detailed story Gabby was relating to him.

"So Micky, now that we've got it all on the table, what is your impression of the situation? I have my own ideas, but I'd really like to hear from you first. Mike's a complete blank slate to me and I don't know what's possible with him in terms of whether we can repair the damage."

"Well, my take on the situation is that Mike is more hurt than pissed off. He feels crushed that Wendy disregarded his input into her life, like he just got dismissed or taken for granted. He thought they were building something substantial and important, and he feels like by not including him in a major life decision like that, or at least telling him in such a defensive way, she treated him really shabbily and more like a piece of ass and not a life partner. He feels disregarded and used."

Gabby exhaled a huge breath and groaned. "Wow, that sounds familiar. Ugh. I don't disagree with him. Wendy told me about this roadie gig right before I left on the trip with you, and I told her she should not have accepted the offer without consulting Mike, but that now that she had, she needed to tell him but break it to him in such a way that let him know that she knew what she did was not the right way to go about it and to try and figure out a way to include him in the process or at least apologize for what she did."

Micky was taken aback. "Then you knew about this and didn't say anything to me? I told you about the Festival on the drive up to Carmel! You didn't say anything about Wendy. Why did you keep that to yourself?"

"Micky, please don't be angry with me. I weighed up the responsibilities I had to both you and Wendy, and I felt that for the moment, until she had had a chance to talk to Mike, I ought to keep my mouth shut. I didn't want to get in the middle of that mess. I didn't know when she was going to be speaking to him about it and if I'd have mentioned it to you then you'd have had to keep it under your hat as well and I didn't want to put you in a compromising situation. Plus, I wanted my decision about whether to come along with you to be about you and me and not get involved with her drama. Can you understand that?"

Micky sighed and conceded "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Man, you women and your friendship codes make things complicated. I wish you would put me first above all else, but I see that right now, as long as we're just started dating, that can't be the case. But I hope one day that I become more central to your life and that you'll want me to know everything first and help you sort through the dilemmas in your life. I'm going to work really hard to earn that trust and that place in your life, Gabby."

"Micky, please don't feel like you've got to keep working at things. It's not like that. It's just that when a friend tells you something in confidence, you need to honor that. If you and I were married, I might feel a bit differently about it. Then I would really have to think twice about the loyalty I give to my friends versus what I give to you. But we're not there yet. Please bear with me. This is all so new to me. Remember what we said at the very beginning of our courtship? We agreed that I won't clamp down if you won't steamroll me. I'm skittish and you're overeager. Do you remember that?"

She could hear Micky grinning over the phone. "Yeah, I remember. Thanks for reminding me."

"I also remember saying no pressure, but no limits either. I am not saying I will never tell you something before I tell the girls. And I'm not saying you don't already mean something to me that is very different and special than what they mean to me. But it's just going to take some time for me to settle in and figure it all out. So right now, I want to do what Wendy didn't do, and ask your permission and input on something regarding the Festival. Is that cool?"

"Sure, Gabby. Lay it on me, not that you need my permission for anything."

"Well, not permission, but I don't want you think that I'm using you or abusing your trust. I want to keep things above board. You and I were talking about possible career moves for me and I was kind of reluctant to talk about them until I told the girls. Well, I mentioned my idea to them and now I want to talk about it with you. There's a really groovy underground newspaper called _Open City_ that covers politics, music, counterculture and all sorts of other cool happenings. I have an in with one of the editors, whom I know from college, and I want to see if I can latch on and get a job with them, maybe even get my own column writing about the things I care about. I want to pitch it to them, but I'm going to need to prove to them that I've got the writing chops and the ability to make the scene. I'm already wired in with regard to politics, but not so much music and the social scene. I thought that maybe if I pitch a story to them about the Monterey Pop Festival, they might go for it, and if they like it, maybe they'll hire me. Would it be okay with you if I tell them about the invitation you extended to me?"

"Of course, Gabby! I want to help you in any way I can! That's not using me, it's me giving you a leg up and you helping me out by being by my side through what I'm pretty sure is going to be a pretty far out experience. I'm a little nervous about it myself, and also excited, and I want to share everything in my life with you. Like you keep saying, we are one. So yeah, go ahead and tell them whatever you need to say to get them to give you the job. You can even lie a little bit and make them think the Monkees are hot shit!" He laughed with a self-deprecating, good natured chuckle.

"Thanks, Micky. I really appreciate it. You're a peach. I just didn't want you to think that the only reason I'd be going with you is to get ahead."

"No, I know your other ulterior motive is the mind-blowing sex, and that's okay with me, too," he joked.

"Oh, you think so, hot stuff? Well you're right," she joked. "So now how do we get Mike and Wendy sorted out? I have a feeling that the key is the fact that y'all will be at the Festival and so will I, and I assume Pete will be inviting Dawn and maybe Davy will beat his own personal best and still be with Lynda and invite her, too. Then we can make sure that Wendy doesn't go astray or get raped or pillaged, and Mike can feel like he doesn't have to worry too much about her. What do you think?"

Micky gave a groan and said "Well, it's not as simple as that. First we have to get them back on track and that means first of all getting them in the same room together. How can we do that? He's moping around the Pad and won't budge off the couch except to use the crapper. He hasn't even picked up his guitar. I asked him when our next practice was and he said 'How the fuck should I know, loverboy? You figure it out!' So I'm thinking he's pretty turned off love right now."

"Okay, then that's the key. We've got to nip that in the bud right now. You need to kidnap him and get him over to my apartment. Dawn and I agreed to vacate the place for him and Wendy. I'll help Wendy to scrape off the layers of junk food, tears and snot that she's been wearing for the last couple of days and hose her down in the shower. You tell him you need to go pick up your pay check at Simpsons because they're holding it ransom and you need him for backup because you don't want any trouble. But you don't take him to Simpsons. You bring him here instead. Even if he figures out what's going on, I can't see him ditching out of a moving car and anyhow, how would he get back to Malibu? Then we lock him and Wendy up in the apartment and we all scram back to the Pad and just let nature take its course. If they make up, then fine. If they don't, I imagine you'll eventually get an angry call from Mike demanding you come pick him up and bring him back home. How does that sound?"

"That sounds brilliant, my dear Holmes."

"Elementary, my beloved Watson."

"We'll be there by about 6:30.

"Perfect. See you then. Better let Peter know to expect company. And tell him to keep his hands to himself tonight or I'm going to smack him upside the head."

"Huh?" Micky was totally bewildered, thinking maybe somehow Peter had managed to make a pass at Gabby without his knowing it.

"Not me, silly – Dawn! I got home and like you predicted, she was hobbling around like she had been on a three-day horse ride. I guess Peter went to town living out one of his fantasies while you and I were on the road. Tell him to get busy cleaning your bathtub and make sure it's spic and span. Dawn needs an hourly hot bath thanks to his over-exuberance and incredible stamina, if you know what I mean."

Micky hooted with laughter and promised to get on the case as soon as he hung up the phone, then bade Gabby goodbye.

* * *

Mike and Micky arrived at Gabby's apartment. Mike had a face full of thunder and high dudgeon, and was muttering obscenities at Micky that could have struck the devil down where he stood if he'd have been in the neighborhood. Micky was impervious to Mike's tough-guy act. "This is for your own good, Mike. You need to hear her out, let her explain and make amends to you."

"You're lucky I don't knock you flat on your ass, Dolenz. The only reason I haven't is that mah livelihood depends on you bein' in tiptop condition. Kidnappin' me, bringin' me into the she-lion's den under false pretenses, snatchin' mah manhood out from under me."

"Mike, I'm not trying to emasculate you. I'm trying to make sure you get love and sex good and regular from this day far into the future. You just need to trust me on this one. Wendy's devastated at what went down between you two and she wants to talk it out with you."

"You better be right, Micky, or I'm gonna kick your ass from here to Monterey mahself. You won't be travelin' in the Monkeemobile."

"Okay, now get that scowl off your face, Mike. Try to look at least halfway human. You don't want Wendy to be shaking in her boots when she sees you. Remember she's a delicate flower just like you. She doesn't have your armadillo skin."

Mike's face softened as he reflected on Wendy's softness, even as he remembered her stubborn, hands-on-hips pose as she squared up all of her four feet eleven inches to Mike's six foot one to tell him he wasn't her daddy or her master the other night. He flinched at the memory, but what overrode it was another memory of a conversation they had at the Dodger game, when they pledged to talk things out if their respective sensitivities and defensive natures ever came to loggerheads.

"Okay, let's roll." He smoothed the swoop of dark hair away from his eyes and straightened his collar and fell into line behind Micky as Micky grinned to himself and crossed his fingers on both hands.

Micky knocked on the door and Gabby bade them to enter. Wendy was cowering in a corner on the couch, clutching a throw pillow, looking pale and washed out. Dawn and Gabby greeted Mike with hugs and then grabbed their already packed overnight bags which they discreetly had stacked near the front door, and exited with Micky. Micky stopped and hovered outside the door, until Gabby doubled back and smacked him on the arm and said "Move it, Micky. Jeez! You're the worst drama llama!" Dawn giggled and said "I'm with Micky. I'd love to be a fly on the wall for this showdown." Gabby shuddered and said "You didn't grow up with Wendy like I did. She can be a holy terror when she digs her heels in. I just hope she still has room for humble pie after all that junk food she ate."

Mike hovered near the front door uncertainly, fiddling with the hangnail on his thumb and said "Hey, Wendy. Micky said you wanted me to come over. I hope it's okay I'm here. If you don't want me here, I'm not really sure what all to do because my ride just left." He swallowed awkwardly and waited for Wendy to say something or even move. Right now she resembled a wax figure at Madame Tussauds Museum.

"No, I'm glad you're here, Mike. Please sit down." Wendy managed to choke out some standard civility. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"You got somethin' alcoholic? I could use some lubrication."

"Yeah, I've got beer and wine. What works best for you?"

"I think I'll swing for the fences and go with wine," Mike requested.

Wendy giggled at Mike's tacit admission that he was nervous as hell and needed heavy fortification for what he anticipated to be a very difficult conversation.

She came back with a bottle of red and a corkscrew and automatically handed it to Mike, who knew from past experience that Wendy wasn't capable of opening a bottle of wine without leaving half the cork in the neck of the bottle. Even this act of familiarity passing between them put them both a bit at ease already, and he smiled when she handed him the corkscrew.

Once they each had a very full glass of wine each, they sat on opposite sides of the L-shaped sofa facing each other waiting for each other to start the conversation, sipping and staring at each other. Mike had already decided he wasn't going to say boo, that it was up to Wendy to start the ball rolling since she had taken the sledgehammer to their relationship. Wendy knew it was up to her to start the conversation, but she was terrified and mystified as to where to begin, so she just kept sipping and gulping her wine down. Mike watched her with some amusement as she polished off her glass rather quickly and poured another one. He was content to let the alcohol do its work and loosen her up. He had plenty of time and no way to get anywhere else.

Finally, a quarter of the way through her second glass of wine, Wendy decided to speak.

"Mike, I apologize for the way I spoke to you, treated you and thought of you, or rather didn't think of you. I did everything wrong that I could possibly have done. I was explaining it to Gabby and Dawn, how I could have messed up so badly with you, and what I came up with was this. I haven't dated much, and you and I haven't dated long, and I just wasn't clear on what you meant to me or where you fit in to my life or my heart. I was living my life under the old, single Wendy rules when I accepted that roadie gig, not as Mike's girlfriend or life partner, primarily because I didn't really have enough self-confidence to trust that that's who I was. And even if I did trust that I was your life partner, I didn't know enough about what that entails to know that I ought to consult you about big decisions that affect you because I didn't know it would affect you, like you worrying about me, or caring about what kind of career I want for myself and wanting to help me along with that. I'm just not used to that. And I also realized that in addition to not knowing how the whole love game gets played, I probably had such a low opinion of myself that I didn't think you ever could care that much about me, or maybe I didn't even want you to care that much about me because if you did and I disappointed you or if I cared that much about you and I disappointed you or you dumped me then I'd get hurt."

Wendy ran her hands through her wild, dark brown hair. Then she took another big gulp of wine. "Shit, none of this is coming out nearly as clear as it did when I was talking to the girls about it. What I'm trying to say is that I was thoughtless, but it's not because I meant to be or thought you didn't deserve to be considered, even though after I got on the defensive that's what I said. I only said that because I was on the spot and I lashed out. When I get my back up I tend to do that. I think you told me that you do that, too. At least you had the good grace not to do that to me, and I thank you for that. I'm ashamed of myself for insulting you with my feminist claptrap because I don't really think you're trying to keep me down or discourage me. I'm ashamed because I couldn't hear you telling me you wanted to lift me up and if I had had the consideration of consulting you and trusting you and treating you like a partner, I could have had your support and maybe things would have turned out better for both of us.

"I remember when we were at the Dodger game we talked about how we were both ornery and contrary and that we agreed that we'd try to part as friends if we ever unloaded on each other. I'd like to do that now, Mike. I know you've got no way to get home. I'd be glad to drive you home. I know you're probably anxious to get out of here."

Mike blinked a couple of times and looked at the empty wine glass in Wendy's hand and said "You're shittin' me, right, Wendy? You just drank your second huge glass of wine. I ain't lettin' you work the TV remote control, never mind drive me to Malibu!" He scooted a bit closer to her on the couch and propped his long, lanky legs up on the coffee table, displaying his cowboy boots that he knew drove her nuts with desire. He was playing it up now, enjoying having the upper hand.

"I remember that conversation at Dodger Stadium too, darlin'. I remember us sayin' that we both had insecurities and soft underbellies that caused us to lash out, and we pledged to always try to work things out if we ever got our wires crossed. Now maybe you think you're ready to part as friends, but I sure ain't."

Wendy's lower lip started to wobble and the tears started to drip from her eyes. "I understand, Mike. I don't blame you for not wanting to have anything to do with me. I wouldn't either if I were you. I wish I could leave me by the side of the road sometimes myself. I hate myself for what I said and did to you, and I'll spend my life regretting letting you down and losing you. I'm so sorry. I guess we could wait for Micky to get home and you could call him and ask him to come back and get you." She reached for the TV remote and handed it to him. "Here, you can work it if you think I'm too tipsy to work the remote."

"Oh, well, hmmm, yeah, I guess we could do that. Or we could stop this sack cloth and ashes nonsense and I could just accept your apology and we could go on lovin' each other. That is, if ya even love me." Then he gave her a wink, that devastating wink that always made her weak in the knees. Mike had a wry grin on his face and was sipping his wine and had his other arm thrown casually over the edge of the couch, the picture of relaxed ease.

Now it was Wendy's turn to blink. She blinked once, twice, thrice with her mouth gaping open.

Mike scooted a little closer to her now, then readjusted his boots on the coffee table and set his wine glass down. "You gonna say somethin' or am I just flappin' mah gums, Wendy?"

"Huh, oh, yeah, um, what was the question?"

"I asked do ya love me?"

Wendy's eyes widened in shock as she processed the fact that she wasn't getting the heave ho but rather was being given a chance to reclaim what she had lost and put a cherry on top of it. She hurled herself across the couch and into Mike's arms and screamed "Of course I love you, you Texas Twanger! I LOVE YOU!!! God knows why you love me or why you keep loving me..."

Mike untangled himself from Wendy's embrace and took her by the shoulders and held her firm, looking straight into her eyes, and said "Stop right there, Wendy. That's where the rot set in and we're gonna put a stop to it right now. You gotta stop downgradin' yourself and what we have. I love ya. I LOVE YA. Ya hear me?"

"Yeah, Mike. I hear real good, especially when you're yelling in my ear."

"Good. Now stop tellin' yourself you aren't worthy of love in general or mah love in particular. That's why we ended up in this mess. Now we're gonna sit here all night and talk about exactly why we love each other, what we love about each other, how much we love each other, what love means to us, what we're willin' to do for that love, what our relationship means to us, what we want outta this relationship, what the boundaries are for each of us and how to make sure that we both feel respected and honored while still bein' true to ourselves and our independent natures, what our expectations are, what would hurt our feelin's and what would make us happy if one of us did somethin' or another, and every other damn contingency that might come up that we can think of so that we don't have so much distance between us. We gotta get on the same page, Wendy, or this just isn't gonna work, ya dig?"

"Yeah, Mike, you're right. We've got to communicate and figure out what we want and where we're going and get to know each other better. You can't be a mind reader and a therapist and I can't expect you to be a saint either. And I've got some growing up to do and some experience to gain, and I need you to be patient with me while I figure out how to be a girlfriend, I mean life partner. But you know, you're going to also have to learn to roll with my independent streak and not worry about me so much – I make my own decisions and I don't always want your input and I sure as hell don't ever want to be in a position to have to ask your permission for something – but I will need to remember that I'm part of a team and if something I want to do affects you then I need to check in with you. And maybe once I know you better I'm going to want your input after all. I just don't know how to not be the maverick, so maybe you can show me what that's like, though I've got a feeling you're pretty mavericky yourself and one day the cowboy boot's gonna be on the other foot. Maybe you can explain it to me where that line is and we can try to come to an agreement about where those boundaries are, like you said. But most of all, I want to love you out in the open like I've been doing secretly for a while now but not telling you because I was afraid to."

"Wendy, love isn't somethin' to be afraid of, it's somethin' to celebrate." Mike ran his hand through her wild mane and tucked some of it behind her ear.

"But I didn't think I ought to say anything about it because you hadn't said anything yet."

"Well, I guess I hadn't said anythin' yet because I wanted to make it special when I said it, and we get so damned little privacy, what with you bein' part of a girl group and me bein' part of a band. I just wanted to make it memorable and have it be somethin' that you'd know I took some trouble over to show you how much it meant to me. I guess that was silly and I shouldn'ta stood on ceremonies, because I love you is somethin' I'm gonna be tellin' you every day of our lives now, now that I've finally said it."

Wendy looked up at Mike with a stunned expression, utterly unable to speak, so she just gaped and moved her lips like a goldfish. When she finally regained the power of speech, she asked "What do you mean the rest of our lives, Mike?"

"I mean, like I said at the baseball game, I'm not in a position to ask you to marry me now, Wendy, because I'm not in a stable career position, but I'm not goin' anywhere and I've found the woman I want to be with. I want to be with you and nobody else. I want us to be life partners and I tried to tell you that when you were busy tellin' me that I had no business tellin' you what to do with your life. So what's it gonna be, Wendy? Do I have a right to have a place in your life to help you decide what's right for you, or should I keep my nose outta your business? Maybe I got ahead of myself and I oughtta dial it back. That's why I think we need to talk about what this relationship means to us, both of us. I thought it meant one thing and maybe you think it means somethin' else. I don't want to overstep mah bounds."

"I don't really know, Mike, but you're right. We do need to talk this out. I do know that I love you, and that I don't want anyone else. I know that I'm not ready to get married either, but that I'm looking for the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with, and you happen to be the swooniest, most wonderful guy I've ever met, and I think you're my soulmate. So that's kind of part of an answer, isn't it?"

Mike leaned over her and put his arms around her and said "That'll do just fine for now. Now let's kill this bottle of wine and talk some more while you call for a pizza delivery. We've got a lot to sort through. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, Mike. I want to get this figured out once and for all. I want to know who I am and who you are and who WE are. All my life I've been looking for my identity, my place. You're the first person to come along and ask me where I want to fit in and who do I think I am and to say that he'll accept whatever the answers to those questions are. So let's get down to it and see what we come up with. What do you want on your pizza?"

"You can pick this time. I'll pick out the next one." Mike smiled at her with confidence that there would be a next time, and a next time, and a next time.


	32. Chapter 32

Gabby rang Wendy in the morning to find out if the coast was clear to come home. She assumed that conditions were favorable since they hadn't heard from an angry Mike demanding a ride back home to the Pad. Wendy gave the go-ahead and she and Mike were still lazing around when Dawn and Gabby arrived back home. They both rushed the happy couple with hugs and smiles, and Gabby gave Wendy a friendly smack upside the head for good measure.

"So Dawn, I know Pete hasn't asked you yet, but I'm sure he will. I hope you're gonna come to the Festival with us," Mike entreated her.

"Yeah, he's probably just got his head in the clouds as usual and thinks he already mentioned it to me. I'll talk to him about it, but I'd definitely like to go. I'm sure it will be no problem to get away from work. Hopefully Steven won't smoke himself into oblivion while I'm away."

Mike looked confused until Wendy interpreted for him and explained where Dawn worked.

"Oh, well, there'll be a lot of that goin' on at the Festival, so maybe he'll pack you a goodie bag of paraphernalia to bring with you," Mike joked. "Do all of you girls smoke pot, or is Dawn the only partaker?"

Gabby intervened since she knew the spotlight would end up on her eventually. "Wendy's always been a party girl but not as committed as Dawn, and I don't do it at all, except for one time when my ex-boyfriend forced it on me. I may want to run for political office one day so that's the last thing I need hanging around my neck is another disqualifier. I'm already at a disadvantage because I'm a woman. And frankly, I just don't like it. What about you boys?"

Mike said "We all smoke pot from time to time, but Pete's kind of gotten more out there than the rest of us. He's into exploring the outer reaches of consciousness. Better living through pharmaceuticals is how he puts it."

"Good to know, Mike. I guess if it comes up I'll have to let Micky know, but feel free to mention it to him if you want so that he doesn't end up asking me to toke with him. I'd just as soon help him avoid being embarrassed or uncomfortable. He's such a sensitive creature, and he's still beating himself up for the way he approached me when we met."

Mike barked with laughter at the notion that Micky was a sensitive creature, but Gabby gave him a death stare. Then he realized that she had probably gotten the down and dirty about him crying his eyes out when he and Wendy broke up and he abruptly clammed up. "Uh, yeah, I guess we've all got our soft spots."

Wendy drove Mike back to Malibu to practice with the guys before the gig, and the girls called Lynda to ask her to come over to hang out with them at their pool before the night's gig. When Wendy got back from driving Mike home, she filled them all in on the mind-blowing reconciliation conversation they had had and then the discussion that followed in which they defined the contours of their relationship going forward. She said that they had decided that she'd give up her roadie gig, not because Mike was worried about her, but because Wendy had decided that there were better networking opportunities available through sticking close to the Monkees backstage, and while Mike had encouraged her to make that move, they came to that decision as a mutual effort. The gals were floored by Mike's efforts at keeping the lines of communication open and creating a basis for a relationship that was grounded in mutual respect and support. This seemed so contrary to their preconceptions of him as a typical southern dude who was overprotective and chauvinistic. He seemed to be surprisingly modern and feminist. They were all charmed and enamored and very pro-Mike.

Dawn commented "I think you both came to the best conclusion that you should stick with the band and make contacts with people backstage. You're really more of a people person than a grunt worker anyway, so that cuts to the chase and maybe you'll even end up helping the band with their efforts to network."

Wendy agreed. "That's true. I'm not really cut out for grunt work, I just wanted to get my foot in the door, so if Mike's got a way in for me and he's gracious enough to still offer it to me, who am I to refuse? But I do really appreciate the fact that he didn't try to stop me from going through with the roadie job if that's what I wanted to do. That means more to me than anything. That he was willing to let me stand my ground and know my own mind."

"You sure bagged a winner, Wendy," Gabby observed. "I think I didn't give him enough credit for how supportive he'd be of your doing that roadie gig. In fact, I think I myself was more against it than he ended up being. Having known you as long as I have and seen you get yourself into one mess after another, I worry about you something awful! Maybe I projected some of that onto him. I think you have a valid point about not needing his permission for anything, but I do still think that it's better to include him in things beforehand. That's what having a partner in life is for, to have their comfort and support. Of course you already know your own mind, but it's good to run things by someone else, or at least to know how the decisions you make are going to affect the person you love."

"Yeah, I realize that now, Gabby," Wendy sighed. "I'm learning the ropes. Mike's a patient man and I'm a handful, but he's also a bit of a handful, too, and I think he came on kind of strong and it spooked me and I didn't want to have anyone putting reins on me, you know? But I told him that and he gets it now. He said that was a funny way of putting it and maybe he'd write a song about it. He said he did most of his expressing himself through lyrics in his songs."

Lynda piped up now and said "I've found it kind of frightening to listen to some of the lyrics Davy sings. Usually he ends up taking the women for granted, gang banging them, dating more than one at a time, or saying he wants to be free and needs his space!" Then she started to crack up at how passive aggressive yet so perfect this seemed. The girls agreed with the irony of her discovery.

They decided to make a pitcher of margaritas and Lynda volunteered to be the one to drink moderately and do the driving to the club for the gig. She knew she'd need to keep her head straight to deal with Davy and his daily drama anyway, so it was no real sacrifice. So the girls all got more or less hammered and rolled up to the gig in a fairly inebriated state and were extremely jolly and affectionate towards their lovers when they greeted them and wished them well for the gig.

Mike and Peter weren't too disturbed at this state of affairs, but Micky was a little concerned about Gabby. He was still scarred by what had happened to both of them the previous weekend and was concerned that he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her during the gig. Then, just before the gig was about to start, a savior appeared. Robert, his fellow bookseller from the fiction section at Simpsons, arrived to hear them play and he greeted Micky with a handshake. Micky was really pleased to see Robert and appreciated both his friendship and loyalty after how things had ended acrimoniously with the management at Simpsons. He also saw a way of delegating the care and safety of Gabby to someone he trusted. He asked Robert to stick close to the girls and watch out for them. Then he brought him over to them and asked Gabby to introduce Robert to her friends.

Robert shook hands neutrally with Dawn and Wendy, but when he got to Lynda, something in his demeanor changed quite palpably. He was unnerved and shaken by encountering her. She seemed to cause a stir in him that the other girls did not. Likewise, Lynda seemed intrigued with him. On a superficial level at least, he was an arresting figure. He had long, wavy red hair that reached down to his behind, caught up in a ponytail. His skin was the typical pale and rosy hue that accompanied red hair, and his face, arms and hands were heavily freckled. He had long, light orange eyelashes and pale blue eyes. He was almost pretty, except for the fact that he had an incredibly masculine body and demeanor. He was wearing a short sleeved charcoal grey t-shirt and blue jeans with a leather belt riveted with silver studs and black combat boots.

"It's great to meet friends of Gabby's. You mind if I hang out with you tonight?"

Lynda spoke for the group, which in and of itself was unprecedented. "That would be fine. I hope you like to dance, because that's what we do all night long. We're pretty core when it comes to our gigs."

"I love to dance. That's why I wear my boots. These are my lucky dancing boots!" Robert winked at her. "Can I get you ladies some drinks? I'm going to go get something for myself."

Again, Lynda spoke up. "That would be great. I'll come with you. Girls, what does everyone want?"

They took everyone's drink orders and ambled towards the bar.

Gabby, Dawn and Wendy now exchanged meaningful glances that needed no verbalization to draw comprehension. Lynda had found someone she thought might be the person who saw value in her, and she wasn't going to let this opportunity lie fallow. Davy's army physical was in a couple more days and she was already preparing the way for her departure. She wasn't going to let herself be dumped unceremoniously. She was going to follow her mantra that she had shared with the gals: _carpe_ the fuck out of this _diem_.

Robert proved to be a surprisingly apt and fun dancer. He engaged all the girls, but there was clearly some extra chemistry between him and Lynda. On the slower songs, he led her into gentle, respectful, but purposefully close dances that set them a tiny bit apart from the other girls, and they were chatting and exchanging dialogue all throughout the dance, except for when they were staring soulfully into each other's eyes. As they were dancing to the strains of "I Want To Be Free," they were swaying and staring until a series of gasps followed the abrupt cessation of the music. Lynda's eyes flew to the stage and spotted Davy lying in a heap on the floor. She sprinted towards him, pushing through the throng of groupies who crowded the stage and were kneeling down to embrace his prone figure. She screamed for someone to call the paramedics and asked Peter to run and get a glass of water and a cool wet cloth for Davy's head.

Micky got on the microphone because Mike's power of speech appeared to have left him. Drawing upon his natural ability to put people at ease and utilize his sense of humor, Micky joked that Davy was doing his best impression of a swooning groupie and asked the girls what they thought of his performance. The girls all whooped and cheered and hollered and catcalled. Micky started to auction off a kiss for Davy when he regained consciousness and the bidding began at five cents and quickly rose to twelve dollars. As they helped Davy up to his feet and onto a stool, the winning groupie handed over her twelve bucks to Micky and planted a devastating smooch on Davy that seemed to do a pretty good job at reviving him. Micky said that the band would be taking its break a bit early and would be back for its next set in a half hour.

They hustled Davy back to the dressing room and laid him out on the couch. Mike took over as leader and mother hen, probing Davy for his symptoms and trying to determine the cause for his fainting spell. Lynda remorsefully spoke up "It's because I wasn't with you today, Davy, watching over you. You overdid it didn't you? You didn't eat or you exercised too much, right?"

Davy raised his head from the couch feebly and said "Lynda, honey, this isn't on you, it's my fault. I was just trying to get me mind off the physical by swimming all afternoon and was missing you and I guess I didn't notice that I missed dinner. But it's me that messed up. You're entitled to a day with your girls. I've been a nuisance and a burden, and I've given you nothing in return for your troubles."

"Davy, that's not true. And in any case, now's not the time or place to have this discussion. Let's get you fit and healthy. We'll wait for the emergency technicians to come and take care of you."

Just as she was saying this, some medical personnel entered the tiny room with a stretcher and some medical equipment. They asked everyone to vacate the room, but Davy insisted that Lynda be allowed to stay with him. He grasped her hand like a small, scared boy, as they took his vital signs and attached an IV line into his veins so that they could begin to administer fluids and nourishment to him, after he told them he had been on a long-term fasting and exercise regimen. They diagnosed him with extreme exhaustion, dehydration and malnutrition, and said that what he needed was to replenish all of the things he was missing, namely food, water and rest. He and Lynda exchanged looks, knowing that he wouldn't be taking their advice because his life depended upon doing the opposite.

Davy declined a trip to the hospital and asked the medical techs if he could just stay put to receive his treatment. They acquiesced and said they'd stay at the club as long as they didn't receive another emergency call. They were enjoying listening to the free concert, which was carrying on now without Davy. After they had emptied the bag of fluids into Davy, he thanked them and signed a release that named Lynda as his responsible guardian who would escort him home. Lynda thought this an odd choice, given that the Monkees were his closest friends and would seem the more obvious choices to serve this function, and even more so since she did not have her car with her.

After they were alone in the dressing room, Lynda asked Davy "Why did you name me as your guardian? Why not one of the guys?"

Davy took Lynda's hand in his and raised his face to hers, sporting an expression she had never seen before – sincerity mixed with humility and neediness. "Lynda, in this time we've been together, I've grown to care about you very much. I know you feel like you've just been doing me service, bucking me up while I get through this nightmare of losing weight so I flunk me physical, but on this end, if you've been doing me any service it's been to show me that there's more to life than superficial pleasure and that I want to experience life's deeper meaning. There are all sorts of ways to experience any given thing that you encounter in life. I felt it that day I went to Marineland with everyone else, the day you were stuck at work and you couldn't make it to join us. I saw the most amazing sight – a group of seals down on the rocks, sunning themselves and frolicking in their natural habitat – and I thought to meself, here I am, a poor boy from Manchester, thousands of miles from me own natural habitat, seeing something I never thought I'd ever see and I was gobsmacked. But I couldn't enjoy it as much as I wanted to because there was something missing. I realized that what was missing was you. I couldn't turn to you and tell you how seeing that sight made me feel, to hear about what it did for you, to express me own joy and share it with you and to see you enjoying yourself, too. That will always be a special memory for me, but it will never be as good as it could have been because you weren't there with me to share it."

Lynda smiled at Davy, but was reluctant to let this move her off her position that Davy didn't yet have a grasp of what real commitment and love entailed. "I'm glad you feel that you're beginning to understand what you've been missing out on, and what an adult and truly loving relationship entails. That's definitely groundbreaking for you, Davy. I'm really happy for you and for whatever contribution I've made to helping you grow and mature in that regard."

Davy eyed her now with some defeat in his voice. "But you still don't trust me, do you Lynda? You don't think I can change or grow out of the habits of a lifetime? But what about Micky and Gabby? She gave him a chahnce to change and he has! They a wonderful, loving couple now. Why don't you think you and I could have that?"

"Because I think right now the only person you really love is yourself, Davy. I don't think you even know who I am, much less know whether you could love me. Our whole relationship is centered around me catering to your needs and taking care of you. I haven't minded it because I felt in a way I was doing my bit for the country and I was being a good friend to you. But I want more than that out of a relationship. I think when you look out at the world all you see is yourself mirrored back at it. If you see a girl, you only see whether she'd look well on your arm. And if you're with a girl, you're mostly interested in how she can bring you pleasure. Well, I'm my own person and I'm seeking my own pleasure. I don't really think I'm going to find that recognition or pleasure with you because you don't value me as an individual, only as an extension of your own identity. I'm just the puzzle piece that completes you.

"If and when you ever get to the point where you see me as someone you're mad about and think you really can't live without, then maybe I'll reconsider, because I do enjoy spending time with you and I'm fond of you and I'm obviously physically attracted to you. But I have more respect for myself and higher aspirations for the man I'll eventually end up with than to be someone's arm candy. I told you before I'm not a groupie, and I know you think you're not treating me like one just because you're been with me for a record three weeks, but the fact is, I'm still a groupie in your eyes because you don't know me at all. Not who I am inside. I think you're still floating along on a cloud of self-delusion if you think otherwise. So I will definitely be your guardian and your friend if that's enough for you. But it's not enough for me."

She extended him her hand. He took it and pulled her down towards him into a hug. "Lynda..."

"I know, Davy. There's a lot to say. Say it when you've got your thoughts together and can back them up with actions. Now lie back and get some rest while we wait for the gig to end and I'll take you home."

The gig finally ended and all the instruments were loaded into the Monkeemobile. Mike and Gabby returned to the dressing room to fetch Lynda and Davy. As they exited the dressing room, Lynda spotted Robert standing with Dawn and Wendy. She handed Davy off to Mike and Micky, who had been hovering nearby to help steer Davy to the car if he was too weak to walk. She stepped over to Robert and took a moment to speak with him.

"Robert, I'm very glad to have met you tonight. I'm sorry our dance got interrupted. I was really enjoying myself."

Robert gave her a confident, kind smile and said "Me too, Lynda. Should I come to another gig and claim the rest of that dance?"

She nodded her head firmly and said "Yes, definitely do. But wait until after Monday. I've got a loose end to tie up. Then my dance card will be empty."

Robert glanced over towards Davy and nodded his head knowingly and respectfully. "Sure, I understand. I'll look forward to seeing you again soon, Lynda." He shook her hand and wished her a good night. She smiled and bade him goodbye, then returned to Davy as he was still stumbling his way towards the exit. Robert gave a look towards Gabby, seeking reassurance, and Gabby just nodded her head in a gesture meant to convey "It will be okay, just be patient." The girls watched the guys lead Davy out the door and fretted about not only his well-being, but the sanity and serenity of their friend Lynda as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	33. Chapter 33

The guys insisted that Davy spend Saturday in bed and that Davy let Lynda go home to change her clothes and unwind before that night's gig. They really didn't even want Davy to play the gig because they were so concerned about his health, but he insisted. So Mike shooed Lynda out the door despite her concerns about leaving Davy's side, and then Micky pulled up a seat next to Davy's bed.

"Talk to me Davy. How are you feeling? What's going through your mind? I'm here." Micky knew that Davy had a lot of different things running his mind and wanted to allow him to let off whatever steam there was, but he had a feeling that Lynda was foremost on his list of concerns, especially given the previous chats he had had with Davy to try to nudge him in the right direction.

"Micky, I'm losing Lynda. I think I've already lost her." Davy was sitting up in bed, with his elbows on his knees and was running his hands through his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.

"Davy, I'm not going to take a position on it because I haven't spoken to her about it and I don't know where her head is at, but let me ask you this. Did you ever really have her?"

Davy dropped his hands from his head and slowly looked up at Micky as if he were having an epiphany. His eyes widened and then he sighed in defeat. "No, I don't suppose I really did. That's what she was telling me last night. In fact, I'm pretty sure she's been trying to tell me that all along. I thought if I stayed with her and was true to her – didn't date anyone else or flirt with the groupies – that would count for something with her. That it would show her devotion and discipline, some values that she'd admire. And I think in my mind, I was more devoted to her than she realized, but maybe I never really got it across to her with real talk, just compliments and my usual banter." 

"So what makes you think it's over?"

"We talked last night while I was hooked up to that feedbag and I kind of forced the issue and made her admit it to me. She told me I didn't know who she was, that all I knew was that she fit well with the image of the person I wanted as a girlfriend. She also said that she didn't think I could change me ways."

Micky felt like he was whistling past the graveyard, having a déjà vu. "Yeah, I've heard that speech before."

"I know!" Davy cried. "I told Lynda that you and Gabby overcame the challenges of the past you had and have grown so close and loving and I asked her why couldn't we do the same."

"What did she say?"

"She basically said the only one I really love and care about is meself and that any bird I date is just an accessory to my ego. She also made it sound like I'm a hardcore criminal when it comes to groupies and you were just an amateur who crossed the line but got yanked back over before any real long-term damage could be done."

Micky closed his eye in shame and remorse, as well as pity for Davy. He was really hurting for Davy, but he also was feeling like he came close to toppling over the edge of one of those cliffs in Palos Verdes and only the love, perseverance and leap of faith that Gabby took on him had saved him from the misery that Davy was now suffering him.

"Did she break up with you for good?"

"Nah, she didn't, but I think maybe she just didn't want to dig the knife in while I was literally down and out and still have this physical hanging over me head. But I can sense it's over. She did say that if I wanted to get to know who she is and decided that I really liked who she is and wanted to start over and try dating her again with the right approach, she'd be willing to listen."

Micky perked up now and said "You know, that's pretty much what Gabby said to me when I asked her if she'd let me pursue her. I said I wanted to date her, but she was so stuck on my past as what she called 'a groupie gatherer,' and she just couldn't let it go because of something awful that had happened in her past with an ex-boyfriend who cheated on her with groupies and abused her. I told her I would like a chance to prove myself a better man and that I'd like to be her friend first. Then she could decide whether she even liked me as a person, whether she could respect me, and whether she thought I was worthy of her love. So that's what we did. We became friends. We did a lot of talking and getting to know each other, and I didn't lay a hand on her until we felt like we knew each other well enough and even then we went really slow to establish trust and make it special.

"Gabby's been telling me that Lynda told her that she sees you as a friend above all else, so you already have good will with her. So why don't you just knock off the phony, superficial Casanova act and get to know her as a person? I mean, what do you even know about her? Do you know what her family background is like? Do you know what her career aspirations are? Does she have hobbies, do you guys like some of the same things, does she have funny stories from her past, that kind of stuff? And the same with you. Share that stuff about yourself with her. Take the emphasis off of being Davy Jones the love machine and just see her as a person and let her see you as a person. You may find she's not the gal for you, or you may see you can't live without her. But if you never really get to know her, I think she's telling you you're never going to get anywhere with her."

Davy leaned back against the headboard and let out a big breath. "You know, Micky, everything you've described is everything I didn't do. I don't even know how you know how to do that stuff. Where did you learn it?"

Micky replied "I listened to Gabby and gave her what she asked for. I took my cues from her. She said what she didn't want to be – a groupie, a sex toy, a trophy or someone to be taken for granted or controlled. She told me what she was looking for – someone to cherish her, to love her, to respect her, to lift her up and be a partner in life. So I asked myself if I was able and willing to do those things and I said 'Hell yeah' and that was it. I was willing to give up that groupie rock star lifestyle I was living before because I realized it wasn't making me happy, and that I had found a woman who could make me the happiest I ever could be in my life. She was and is worth the effort. I guess I had to grow up a bit, but Gabby gave me a helping hand and coached me through it."

"You're a lucky guy, Micky. I think you did good for yourself. I'm not sure if Lynda and I can make it work. We did everything in the wrong order. Or let me revise that. I did everything in the wrong order, and she just came along for the ride and stood by me and supported me. Maybe she isn't going to be the one who I'll win if I change me ways, but I can see now that if I don't make some changes, I'll never get the kind of happiness I see you've found. Having spent this time with Lynda's shown me that that's what I want now. I told her that. She did leave the door open, but I can feel her slipping away, and the door's pretty much only open a crack."

Micky nodded his head solemnly and said "Well, why don't you focus on what's in front of you, which is failing this physical and staying among the living. Lynda's not going to abandon you for that. She's in it to the bitter end. She told Mike and Gabby that. And she's gotten real close to the girls, so whether you like it or not, she's going to be a part of our lives and keep popping up in your presence. Gabby made her promise not to bail out if you and her split, and she's pretty devoted to those friendships, too. Please don't make it a choice for her that she has to make – staying with you so she can still see the girls or losing them because you can't handle her moving on with her life. She's thousands of miles from home like you are, and she's finally found a group of friends, who just happen to all be dating your best friends."

"No, I won't fight her for custody of the Monkees and the gals. Not after what she's done for me. I'm able to be a bigger person than that, even if I am a midget. I care about her. She's in me heart."

Micky smiled and said "That's what I told Gabby the night I asked her for the chance to redeem myself and court her properly. I told her she was in my heart already, as a friend, and that I cared about her."

"Well, we'll see. Thanks for listening, Micky, and for telling me some of the stuff about you and Gabby. It helps to hear about how other people go about being human. Sometimes I wonder if I'm hardly human at all."

"Davy, don't downgrade yourself. You can't help that you were born with otherworldly handsomeness and stumbled onto the fact that exploiting it could get you what you wanted from a very early age. That's called arrested development. And it's not like you've had much adult guidance, having left home at such an early age. I can definitely relate to that, too. You know I lost my dad when I still a teenager, and I went a little wild with my guy friends at first after he died, even got arrested once, and I think probably the reason why I fell into the groupie scene before I met Gabby was for the same reason. I was just acting like the teenager I never really got to be while I was mourning my dad's loss. So ease up on yourself. You're a good man and you're just learning life's lessons. That's what we're all doing."

Micky reached out to hug Davy and Davy returned it and banged his back affectionately. He had a few tears in his eyes when Micky pulled back and settled himself back on his chair. He posed his next question.

"You ready for this physical? Think you'll make weight?"

"Yeah, I think I'll probably come in a few pounds under. I just hope whatever it is they gave me last night doesn't put weight on me. I really need to stay the course though, Micky. I know Mike doesn't want me to continue with the fasting and exercising, but I have to stick with this. I'll lay off the exercise, but I'm gonna be on a liquid diet until Monday. We'll go early in the morning and get it over with and then hopefully I'll be leaving there with me freedom and go get a good meal. I just hope their scale isn't too much off from the one we have. That's why I left a few pounds more leeway – just in case theirs is calibrated different."

Micky leaned back and appraised Davy with his head tilted to one side, then spoke: "Davy, you look like shit on a shingle. I seriously doubt they're going to look at you and say 'There's a fine figure of a man who we absolutely must have fighting against the Red Menace on our behalf.'"

Davy smiled with his perfect, white teeth. "Really, Micky? That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Micky rose from his seat, patted him on the shoulder and said "Lie back now and get some rest. I'll be in with some chicken broth in a couple of hours. Okay?"

Davy turned on his side and covered up with the blankets. "Okay. Thanks for everything, Mick."

"No sweat, Davy. You're my brother. We are one. That's how Gabby says I love you. Isn't that groovy?"

Davy thought about it for a moment and then said "Very groovy. She's a gem, Mick."

"She's my everything," Micky said, exiting the room and closing the door.


	34. Chapter 34

The Saturday gig was uneventful, save for some fairly persistent Simpsons cashiers elbowing their way towards the front of the crowd of groupies at the end of the show and trying to hit on Micky. He seized up with a look of fright that startled Gabby, so she quickly sauntered over to him and put her body next to him and let him react in whatever way he felt was appropriate for the moment. She didn't want to be seen to be claiming him or emasculating him, but merely making herself available to be claimed, which he did immediately. He slung his arm around her shoulder, took hold of her waist with his other hand, and dipped her low and kissed her passionately. Then he pulled her back up to a vertical position and gave her ass a good squeeze that no one could possibly miss and asked audibly for everyone to hear "Hey, babe, how did you like the show? Did you feel the vibes of love I was sending your way?" Gabby gave a small, gratified smile and said "I felt everything, my love, in all the right places." Then she raised her head for another kiss, which he laid on her like a dying man about to go to the guillotine, saying goodbye to his beloved. 

She studiously ignored the glares and death stares she was receiving from the Simpsons employees. The regular groupies were much more civilized, she now realized, and they really were only envious to the point where they wanted to congratulate her on her good fortune, which they did by approaching her and chatting amiably with her about how she and Micky met, asking how long they had been dating, and extolling about what fine qualities they felt he possessed. There was something much more benign and reverent about their regard for him than the attention he drew from the predatory Simpsons girls. There seemed to be an all-for-one type of code amongst the groupies that she found kind of touching and oddly affirming. 

When the guys were ready to go, they retrieved their girls and they all assembled in the parking lot to sort out what the plan would be. Davy and Lynda were going to head home to the Pad. Davy needed to rest and definitely didn't want to be around others who might be wanting to grab a bite to eat. The rest of the gang headed for Eat at Ed's. Gabby opted to ride with Micky in the Monkeemobile and Peter swapped places with her and accompanied Dawn in her car along with Wendy, with Mike driving the Monkeemobile. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Gabby noticed a small car pull out behind them and follow them quite closely. It was packed with girls whose silhouettes she seemed to recognize as giggly Simpsons cashiers. As they pulled into the parking lot at Ed's so did that car. Its passengers did not disembark, however, and Gabby and her friends entered the diner and grabbed seats and menus. Only after they were settled did she look around and notice that at a table off in another corner of the restaurant, a group of four giggly cashiers were holding menus up to shield their faces and peeking around them, observing her and her group of friends. She decided to just ignore the intrusion into their privacy and not to alert anyone and spoil the evening. It was just something she supposed that the guys had to put up with as local celebrities and now something she would have to learn how to deal with as a close associate of theirs.

After they were done eating, a delicate negotiation began as to who would sleep where. Wendy wanted to be with Mike, and Gabby was not opposed to being with Micky. But bringing Micky over to her apartment with anyone else in residence had its risks, since Micky was very vocal when he was amorous and she wanted to avoid keeping her roommates awake if possible. So she delicately inquired as to Micky's intentions for the rest of the evening's program and he affirmed he was feeling amorous, so it was decided that Gabby would go with Micky to the Pad so that he could get as shouty as he wanted to, as long as he didn't disturb Davy and Lynda downstairs. Pete was already planning on sleeping in Dawn's room to give Davy and Lynda a decent night's sleep in a larger bed made from pushing his and Davy's beds together. So Davy and Lynda had already driven to the Pad in her car, Wendy, Dawn, Mike and Peter drove to the girls' apartment in Wendy's car, and Micky and Gabby took the Monkeemobile home to the Pad. The only downside to this was that they would have to unload all of the instruments on their own, but Gabby had excellent upper body strength, which she had been "honing through boning," as Micky liked to joke, preferring to be on top when they made love, so they were quickly able to get the car unloaded.

Once all the instruments and amps and wires were back in their place on the bandstand, Gabby declared herself ready for a cool shower and Micky suggested that it would be patriotic and environmentally sound to share water and shower together. Gabby agreed that this was an excellent and moral stance to take, and they took their time cleansing and stimulating each other under the pounding spray, much like they had that first time in Carmel. Since Davy and Lynda were by now sound asleep, their inhibitions were down and they exited the bathroom in towels. Gabby allowed Micky to pull her down on the psychiatrist's couch in the living room and snatch away her towel. 

"Your skin is glowing in the moonlight, Gabby my love. You look luminescent." 

"Hmmm," she mused. "What do you suppose moonlight tastes like?"

Micky's eyebrows shot up and he got a mischievous look in his eye. "I don't know, shall I investigate and give you my scientific observations?"

"Yes, Micky, you've always said that science is your passion. I'd like to see you get your doctorate in passion."

He proceeded to lick her from top to toe. He started at her ear lobes, then followed the line of her jawbone down to her neck and began to suck her gently there, then trailed his tongue to her throat and dipped it in the indentation at the bottom of it and tickled her there for a moment. He ran his tongue across both her collar bones, then kissed her shoulders and planted moist, wet kisses down her right arm to the crook where her elbow bent from the inside of her arm and let his tongue lick and tickle the tender flesh there. He switched and repeated the process on the opposite side. He concentrated on the more sensitive inside part of her lower arms and ran his tongue and teeth along her forearms, then sucked each of her ten fingers lasciviously and lapped at her palms.

Back up to her collar bones he sprang and now he was ready to get down to serious business. He allowed his tongue to stray to her right breast and make concentric circles on it until he got closer and closer to her nipple. By now she was writhing with need and want. Just at this moment, he abandoned the right and moved to the left breast, repeating the process and cruelly leaving her wanting again. He licked a stripe down her sternum and to her belly button and surrounded it but again did not give her the satisfaction of making contact with its tender center. 

He carried on this way with her waist, hips, legs and feet, backs of her thighs and buttocks, until he had licked every square inch of her except for her erogenous zones, all of which were now aching and on high alert, seeking relief and comfort. He moved his body up and whispered in her ear "Tell me, Gabriella, what do you want and where do you want it?"

"I want you to pay your respects to my tenderest places with fierce regard. I want you to show me no mercy. I want you to take me hard and fast and overwhelm me until I'm overcome with sensation and don't know which way is up."

"Do you want me to do it with my mouth or with other parts of my body?"

"I want you to claim me and own me, so I'll leave that part up to you. If you want to feel pleasure while you're taking me, that will make me happy, but you can't come until I do. And if you don't come, I will take care of you but good later. But for now, I'm giving you my ultimate trust, Micky. You have my body and you can do with it what you will. Just don't hurt me. And no knocking on my backdoor. It's closed to everyone but my proctologist." Here she giggled, which made him giggle.

Micky walked to the end of the psychiatrist's couch and yanked Gabby's legs down towards the end that was elevated for the patient to lie his head on, and kept pulling her until her bum was tilted up into the air and her sex was completely exposed to him. He pushed her legs further apart so that he could gain better access to her golden triangle, or rather dark triangle of hair and folds and nerve endings. He parted her lips and folds tenderly with his fingers, running them over the terrain as if familiarizing himself with a new piece of equipment he would be operating. He paused at her hole to gather some of the juices that were leaking from her and smeared them on the tip of his thumb, then gently ran it over the nub of her hooded love button. He dipped in again, gathering more lubrication, then pulled back the hood of skin and found the small nub and applied more firm pressure to the red, swollen gland and watched her jump as she reacted to his touch. Recalibrating because he wanted to prolong this experience for her, he moved away from his direct target and began to widen out the radius of his touch, only occasionally returning to his bullseye, until Gabby began to fidget and moan.

Now he took both hands and firmly gripped her whole pelvis and began to lap at her inner and outer lips, taking occasional swipes at her clitoris, being judiciously stingy so as not to set her off too soon. He sucked and nibbled and feasted on her. Then suddenly he took his tongue and thrust it hard into her vagina and stabbed her with it repeatedly, causing her to moan and grab her own breasts and wriggle and pant heavily. As he continued to fuck her with his tongue, he allowed his fingers to stimulate her clitoris and she began to build towards what he knew was going to be a spectacular orgasm. He could feel her thighs and buttocks shaking, so he moved his hands to her hips to hold her down, while her abdomen was heaving and pressing against his hands.

Just as he felt her toppling over the edge of her climax, he quickly inserted his penis inside her and his feet left the floor as he began to ride her roughly and hard, thrusting and filling her so that she could have something more substantial to bear down on as her orgasm cascaded through her body and her inner walls began to vibrate with an excess of stimulation. The sensation of heat and the vibration and muscular contractions in her vagina proved instantaneously effective in pushing Micky into a heightened state of arousal and all that was needed for him to come was a few quick strokes and he too was having an orgasm of epic proportions. His hands grabbed hold of Gabby's breasts for balance and as an inexorable instinct, and he squeezed them and pinched her nipples until she growled low with ecstasy, stifling the shrieks she wanted to emit but couldn't for fear of waking up Davy and Lynda. Micky fell forward onto her as his orgasm washed over him and he began to suckle her breasts to stifle his own cries and because he needed an outlet for all the things his lower half was still feeling. She took his head in her hands and held it firmly against her breasts and encouraged him to carry on with what he was doing with his mouth.

They laid on the couch, panting and petting each other, their legs elevated on one end of the couch and their other halves flat on the rest of the couch. Eventually they realized that the blood in their feet was now pooling in their legs and they needed to change positions. They scooted up towards the other end of the couch without Micky withdrawing from Gabby, and they laid like that until he softened so much that he slipped from her and began to leak his seed onto the couch. Then, out of consideration for whomever was going to use the couch next, they cleaned up the evidence of their coupling. As they were doing this, Gabby felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck and she thought she saw a dark figure looming at one of the sliding glass doors leading out to the patio. She turned abruptly towards the window but the shadow retreated.

"Micky! I think someone was out on the patio watching us!"

"Are you sure, Gabby? I mean, why would – who would – how could any sick person – " 

He didn't finish the sentence. He knew the answer. Gabby decided she had better tell him about the girls who had followed them to the diner that night. She encouraged him to take another shower with her so they could wash off the traces of their lovemaking and she told him that she had seen the Simpsons girls follow them from the club to Ed's and gawking at them from behind menus.

As they dried each other off, Micky looked defeated, humiliated, remorseful and scared.

"God, Gabby. I had no idea this was going to be the result of my philandering lifestyle. I swear I never came on to any of those girls, not at the store and not at the club. And you know, they aren't at all like the regular groupies. The club groupies, they have a code of their own, if you can believe that. They're pretty respectful and mellow and accepting of boundaries."

Gabby nodded. "I know Micky, I saw it tonight. I even ended up talking to some of the regular groupies and they were really nice to me. They were very respectful of me being your girlfriend and they were happy for us. But these girls from Simpsons, they're a different breed. They're really more like stalkers. And I don't want you blaming yourself for them. They showed up on the scene after you cleaned up your act. You didn't bring this on yourself. I mean other than the fact that they seem to be misconstruing the whole groupie phenomenon and not realizing that there are actually boundaries and rules to the road."

"So what should we do? What _can_ we do?" Micky sounded like a scared little boy.

"Well, under normal circumstances, I would say we need to document every instance of harassment and stalking, but I don't think we should do that tonight. Davy desperately needs rest, and if we call the police, they'll wake him up and cause a big ruckus. So let's hang tight until he gets through his ordeal. Then, if this happens again, we'll contact the police. Let's hope this was just a one-time deal with some dumb girl doing a dare or something." 

Gabby paused and stepped close to Micky, nestling her arms around his neck and brushing his penis with her pubic bone. "And let's think logically about this. At least what she saw was you and me having extremely hot sex that she's never ever gonna have with you, right? So maybe that will shut down her fantasy and she'll leave us alone and get on with her life."

"Hmmm, that's one way of making lemonade out of lemons, my Gabby. Let's get back to that. That _was_ pretty fucking hot, wasn't it, if I do humbly say so myself." 

"Indeed. They need a new word for what we just did. That wasn't sex or making love. It was the alchemy of physical dynamism." 

"Wow, Gabby, that would make for some awesome song lyrics. Mind if I share that with Mike?"

"Yes, I do mind!" she harrumphed. "That's strictly between you and me. Not everything needs to end up as part of a Monkees tune. I think what just happened ought to show us that we need a strong boundary between your professional and personal life."

"You're right. Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Micky. It's just that you grew up in showbiz and you have a different mindset than I do. But I think we can both agree that we'd like to keep our sex life private and that we'd rather keep ourselves safe from groupies. So after Monday, if anything sketchy happens, we let each other know and we go straight to the police. Deal?"

"Okay, deal." Micky sighed. "I hate the fact that I've put you in danger, Gabby. I told you I'd keep you safe, but when I said it I meant that I wouldn't break your heart. I had no idea that I'd be protecting you from crazy fans and low-life guys you once fancied who turn around and try to assault you. That's why I wanted to take you away to Carmel. That's why I want to live closer to you or even with you. So I can keep watch over you. But I know you have your girls and I also know you're an independent woman. But it still eats me up that I'm complicating your life"

Gabby gripped Micky's arms firmly and held his gaze intently. "Micky, stop it right now. Believe me, when I get my feet back on the ground and get back into the political game and become an activist again down here in L.A., the shoe is going to be on the other foot and you're going to be wondering why you ever signed up to hook your wagon to me. I'm going to be marching in protests, risking arrest, bodily harm, social scorn and all sorts of unpleasant things you're going to want to protect me from, and you're not going to be able to. So you may as well stop fretting about what your lifestyle is doing to me, because the minute I get the chance, I'm going to be picking back up my old lifestyle that was pretty hairy, too. We're both people who live on the edge because that's where we're comfortable and that's where we feel like we can taste life's sweetest juices and most rewarding experiences. That's just how we are. We're passionate people. I don't hold this against you, and I hope you won't try to change me when my time comes. I wouldn't want you to be anyone other than who you are and I knew what I was signing up for, if not really the specifics, at least the broad outlines. The only thing I told you was a non-starter was for you to be a groupie groper. The minute I get wind that you're sleeping around, I'll dump your ass so fast you won't know what hit you. Other than that, I think I can handle everything else that comes with the territory with your chosen profession. And if I can't or I'm having trouble with it, I'll tell you and we can try to work it out. Deal?"

Micky smiled and gathered Gabby into his arms. "Deal."

"I love you, my Micky."

"You're my everything, Gabriella."

"Let's go get some sleep, and if you're very nice, I'll let you tickle my fancy when we wake up, as long as it's before Looney Tunes starts."

Micky rolled his eyes and said "You drive a hard bargain, woman."

"Yes I do, and you love it, dude.'

"True, true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	35. Chapter 35

Micky, Gabby, Davy and Lynda had a light breakfast together, which is to say Davy drank only milk and everyone else confined their consumption to cereal, not that there was anything else in the house. Even though the Monkees could now afford to keep food in their cupboard – as opposed to all those years when they lived so close to the margins that they had to search the sofa cushions for loose change and bring an abacus with them to the grocery store to make sure they didn't go over budget – they still rarely had any food around, owing to old habits dying hard, plus sloth and laziness being a characteristic of all four guys. So there were no Sunday bagels to go with Gabby's cartoons, and she didn't bother to go foraging out of compassion for Davy's ravenous hunger. 

Micky and Gabby decided that Gabby would spend the day at the Pad since it was a good beach day, and also to buck up Davy and to give Lynda some extra support. Gabby didn't have her swimsuit with her, so she borrowed some shorts and a t-shirt from Davy and she and Lynda took their towels and other necessaries out to the sand, while Davy decided to go back to bed and rest. Micky indulged in one of his favorite sports, surfing, and enjoyed showing off his skills for the girls.

Gabby was lying on her stomach, plowing through another Agatha Christie novel, _Evil Under the Sun_ , when she raised her head to brush sand off her cheek and noticed a group of girls about a hundred yards away sitting together under a big beach umbrella. One of them was turned in her direction and appeared to be watching her intently. Gabby got a chill down her spine as she got a sensation of familiarity with this girl. After a few seconds, she was able to place where she knew this girl from. It was Sally, the giggly cashier from Simpsons who had groped Micky in the men's bathroom at Cornwall's.

Gabby took a sharp intake of breath, then very slowly put her book down and rolled over on her side to face Lynda. She whispered "Lynda, DO NOT look over my shoulder. Keep looking down at me or you can turn your head in any other direction. Just listen to me. There's a group of girls over my shoulder about a hundred yards away. One of them is the girl who mauled Micky in the men's room, and I think the other ones are a group of girls who followed us to Ed's last night after the show. Last night, Micky and I were getting friendly on the couch in the big room and I'm pretty sure someone was on the patio watching us because I saw a shadow in the window that ran away when I spotted it."

Lynda's eyebrows rose well above her sunglasses and her mouth dropped open. "Holy mother of Jesus, Gabby. You mean those girls are coming after you, after Micky, after us?"

Gabby nodded her head. "Yes, that's what I'm saying. I guess they must have followed the Monkeemobile home from the diner last night so that they could figure out where Micky and the other fellas live, and now that they know they're going to hang around and try to make contact with them, or at least spy on them."

Lynda insisted "Gabby, you _must_ do something about this! Why didn't you call the police last night when it first happened?"

Gabby shook her head in the negative and said "I didn't want to bring the cops into the Pad and wake you guys and get Davy all riled up. He needs his rest and to focus on what's in front of him, to get through that physical. He doesn't need to be worrying about anything else."

"So what are you going to do about this? I assume this means that you're not going to call the cops about this either?"

"What would I say to the cops anyway? That there are some giggly, silly girls sitting quite a distance from us on the beach ogling me and my boyfriend while he surfs? They wouldn't consider that a big deal. But I've got to let Micky know that this is happening."

Gabby rose from her towel and walked towards the surf. Micky waved to her from out beyond the breakers, where he was floating and waiting for a good wave to ride in. She waved back and smiled and sat down to await his arrival. She couldn't help but hug herself and count her blessings at having snagged such a loving, wonderful guy and managed to feel a modicum of pity for those pathetic girls who were obsessing about him fruitlessly instead of going out and finding someone real and within reach who could love them. 

Ten minutes later, Micky rode a wave all the way in to shore, whooping and raising his hands in triumph as he allowed his surfboard to create a divot in the sand before he took his foot to knock it upright and catch it with his hand to carry it the rest of the way to his waiting girl. 

"What'd you think of that tubular masterpiece, my Gabby? Not too shabby! Hey, that would make a great sock hop song!" He shook his head like a dog and sprayed her with water, which made her shriek with the shock of the cold water and laugh at being mussed up against her will. He dropped his board and leaned down to give her a kiss on the lips, then flopped in the sand next to her and asked "What's up, babe? You look like you've got something on your mind."

Gabby wished she didn't have to ruin this idyllic day for Micky, but knew that immediate action was called for. They had agreed on it last night and so she would keep to the plan.

"Micky, please keep your eyes focused on me and don't look anywhere else while I talk to you. I was on my towel next to Lynda over back towards the Pad, reading my book. Then I noticed out of the corner of my eye that there was a gang of girls about a hundred yards away sort of ducking down behind a beach umbrella, but one of them was sticking out a bit, and I thought I recognized her. I'm pretty sure it's Sally, from Simpsons, and that the girls she's with are the girls who followed us to Ed's last night. I'm guessing that they waited for us to finish eating at Ed's and then followed the Monkeemobile home last night, and now they know where you and the guys live. They probably wanted to 'accidentally' run into you on the beach and didn't necessarily anticipate my presence on the beach. I mean, you were out there doing your thing and Lynda and I were on a different part of the beach. But when I looked over at them, I noticed that Sally was turned towards me and she was staring right at me, like she was boring a hole in my skull, or trying to size me up as her competition, or daring me to go over there and say something."

Micky harrumphed and snorted a breath out his nose in disgust and frustration. "Okay, this is out of hand. I will not let this stand. I'm going to have to go talk to them. I don't think calling the police is going to do any good. It's a public beach and they can sit there if they want to."

"I agree about it not being an option to call the cops, Micky, but why do you think it's a good idea to go talk to them? Aren't you just playing into their hands? They want your attention and this will mean that they got it."

"I don't know, Gabby, but something tells me if I just go talk to them like people, like human beings, and explain to them that I'm a person and not an idol and that I have a personal life that I want to keep personal, they might back off. In any case, I don't think it could hurt. Will you agree that that's worth a shot?"

"I guess it's worth trying. I just hope that you don't end up stirring something up and making one of them think that by making contact with them that you're encouraging them. You know how crazy people can misconstrue things."

Micky kissed Gabby on the forehead and said "I know, babe, but I've been in this biz for a long time and something tells me that this is the right approach. So I'm going to go talk to them. Okay?"

Gabby sighed and threw her hands up in the air and agreed reluctantly. "Okay, Micky. I'll support your decision. But if things don't go as you planned, I want your permission to scare the shit out of them and threaten them with the cops and retribution and the wrath of a biker gang's members that I know."

Micky's eyes opened wide. "You know biker gang members?"

"Yep. You know, they don't want to get drafted any more than Davy does. I met them through Dawn's boss, Steven. They're regular customers of his and I helped a few of them."

Micky grinned at her and placed his palm on her cheek. "You're something else, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. And so are you. That's why we're such a great pair." She kissed him and watched him go as he brushed the sand off his knees and hands and walk towards the umbrella shielding the girls.

* * *

Micky strolled casually up to the blanket, noticing with a mix of amusement and contempt the stir he was causing as he approached and the girls noticed him one by one. Sally sprang to her feet and took the initiative, as the apparent leader of the group, to welcome Micky and greet him.

"Micky, hi! Wow, it's weird running into you here. I didn't think you Monkees came out during the day. Somehow I can only picture you running around during the night."

Micky smiled and said "Now you know that's not true, Sally, I worked at Simpsons during the day."

"Yeah, that's true, I almost forgot you worked there," she said with a studied, purposely casual manner.

Micky stuck his hand out and said to the other girls "I'm Micky Dolenz, and I'm in a band called the Monkees. I don't suppose you girls know that."

The girls all looked at each other guiltily and reached out to shake his hand. They couldn't decide whether to admit that they knew exactly who he was and to tip their hands as stalkers, or to pretend they didn't know who he was and to not blow their cover. They seemed to be confused about which approach to do and got no guidance from Sally, who seemed to be their leader, so they just remained mum.

Sally said "These are my friends and they also work at Simpsons. I guess you weren't there long enough to meet them."

Micky smiled pleasantly and said "No, I wasn't there for very long. I had to leave because some fucked up things happened with a couple of employees who came to a gig and misbehaved and it wasn't safe for me and my girlfriend to stay there anymore. I got sexually assaulted in the men's room and my girlfriend was assaulted on the dance floor, both by Simpsons employees."

Sally and Micky were now locking horns and talking in code, which everyone assembled knew, but nobody said anything about it. Sally continued to play the game.  
  


"Oh, who's your girlfriend? I didn't realize you had one. I thought you were a young, dashing, handsome, single man."

Micky let a goofy grin play upon his lips and he tilted his head back over his shoulder towards where Gabby and Lynda were sitting. "Yeah, I'm in a heavy duty relationship with Gabby. You know, she was the assistant manager at Simpsons who quit the same time I did because the guy from the magazine section tried to rape her at a Monkees gig? That was a really bad scene. Anyway, she's my everything. I love her with all my heart and soul. She makes me happy and we're a solid couple. I've got everything I want in a woman in her. Everything. I'm not on the dating market anymore. As a matter of fact, it's funny, because all of my bandmates are in serious relationships with Gabby's friends, so we're all off the market now. We're all in love and most likely headed for the altar. Does that clear things up for you?"

Sally looked at him with a mix of scorn, anger and just a tinge of shame. "Yeah, I get it. That's cool for you guys to have found such great girls."

"Well, Sally, I hope you and your friends find some awesome guys to love and cherish you the way you deserve to be treated. Everyone deserves to be loved and respected. I know you're all just looking for happiness. I was kind of confused about how to find love before I met Gabby. Just chasing after one person and another and not finding the right one because I was kind of focusing on the wrong thing. I was so wrapped up in the fantasy of sex and appearances that I forgot that true love begins with friendship and trust and fidelity. That's why Gabby and I have such a strong relationship and why the other guys are so solid with their girls. My suggestion to you girls is to find that with the guys you want to date. And don't settle for anything less. You deserve it all."

Sally's expression now had shifted to surprise and remorse. She could hear that Micky was forgiving her despite her not having atoned, and that he was giving her some sincere, and very solid life advice. She felt extremely ashamed for what she had done and had egged her friends on to do. She extended her hand out to Micky and offered him the closest thing she could to an apology while still saving face in front of her crew:

"Thanks for the advice, Micky, and for sharing something about your life with us. We all feel like we know you just because we see you up there on stage, but I guess we don't really know you at all. Thanks for taking the time to tell us about you and the guys and to give us some really solid intel on finding a good guy. You're right. We do all deserve to be happy, and maybe some of us just go about it the wrong way without realizing it."

Micky turned to go now and said "It was real nice speaking with you ladies and a pleasure to have met you. Have fun and enjoy the beach. I've got to get back to my girl now. Bye!"

When Micky joined Lynda and Gabby at their towels, Gabby was as nervous wreck, wringing her hands and chewing on her fingernails. Micky enveloped her in his arms and said "Hey now, my Gabby, it's going to be okay. I think I got my point across and was able to get through to them. I really do. I talked to them like human beings, and frankly treated them better than they probably deserved and surely better than they expected once I let them know I knew what they were up to. It was all very civilized and spoken in subtext and we didn't even talk directly about them stalking you and me. I think it's going to be fine. But if it's not, we'll call the police."

Gabby broke down in tears now, more of relief and amazement at Micky's poise and humanity in the face of such a threatening situation.

"Shhhh, Gabby, it's okay. You're going to be okay, we're going to be okay. It's all good."

He laid down on Gabby's towel and let her bury her head into his chest and cry herself out. As was her custom when really stressed out emotionally, her system shut down and she went to sleep. Micky and Lynda talked quietly about life, love, fame and other random topics until eventually Gabby stirred. 

Micky ran his hand over her sleek bobbed hair. 

"You feeling more mellow now, Gabby?"

"No, just more accepting of our situation and acknowledging that for now there's nothing I can do about it. But I'm still not going to feel okay about this until some time goes by without seeing or having a run-in with a Simpsons cashier. I think I'd like you to ask the club to ban them."

"No, Gabby, that's not a good move. Let's give them a chance to behave themselves. Let's let them earn back our trust. I laid down the gauntlet. Now let's let them pick it up. I think they all feel bad for what they did, even Sally, or at least she feels embarrassed that her friends know and she wants to save face. Trust my instincts on this, Gabby."

Gabby looked up into his confident, serene, wise face and felt like she _could_ trust his instincts. "Okay, I think you believe you have a good read on the situation, so I'm going to trust your take on things. Just please keep me safe, Micky, and yourself, too."

"Always, Gabriella. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	36. Chapter 36

Gabby hurried home that afternoon to grab a change of clothes so that she could stay at the Pad that night and be there ready to leave early the next morning to attend Davy's army physical with him and Mike. She filled Wendy and Dawn in on the harrowing encounters with the mysterious nighttime voyeur and the cashier stalkers on the beach.

Dawn whistled "Wooooo, girl, you sure have gotten yourself in deep with a hot ticket. You'd never know it by looking at him, but Micky's got more than a little in common with Elvis. Maybe we ought to start calling you Priscilla!"

Gabby gave her a withering stare and said "That's sick, Dawn. Micky's not a pervy cradle robber like the Elvis the Pelvis. He doesn't want those girls' attention. He's horrified by the whole situation."

Wendy rallied to Gabby's side. "Yeah, Dawn! Gabby's more than enough woman for Micky! Look at what he gave up to be with her. He had it coming and going day and night, mostly coming..." She sniggered lewdly and Dawn joined her.

Gabby transferred her glare to Wendy and said "Not helping, Wendy. Anyway, can we please stop talking about how desirable Micky is, before I end up in a knife fight with you two gals trying to protect my turf?" Now she gave a grin and a giggle to her two best gals. "And hey, you owe him a big thanks. He did you both a solid by warning them off your guys as well. He told them that all the Monkees are practically on their way to the altar!"

Dawn mused, "I wonder which of us will get there first..."

Gabby assured her "Well it won't be me. I'm moving at a glacial pace and if Micky and I end up living in the same neighborhood and raising a houseplant together it will be a long time from now."

Wendy chipped in "Well, I don't really feel ready for that myself, either, so I would say my money's on Dawn."

Dawn was appalled. "How can you say that, when I'm the most unconventional of the three of us? I'm the hippy wild child running through a field with a crown of daisies in my hair, flashing a peace sign and partaking of mind-altering substances willy nilly!"

Wendy pursed her lips and tilted her head, appraising Dawn dispassionately, with her sports bookie's estimating look. "I think it's going to be you because I can tell Peter is going to want to make you his the minute he can afford it, and you won't be able to resist him. He makes you blissfully happy and you are as easy going as he is. Gabby and I are the prickly, emotionally damaged women's libbers with all sorts of fucked up baggage. You're the normal, sane one of this bunch of bananas. So it's going to be you."

Dawn blinked and said "Thank you? I guess. But what about all that 'life partner' guff Mike's been pressing on you?"

"Oh, I'm not saying Mike's not keen on it, but I'm just saying I'm not going to knuckle under to it as readily as you will. He's going to have to sweat it out and tame me first. I'm not going to get hitched until he knows exactly what he's getting. There are just some parts of my personality that I can't and won't change, so he's going to have to accept every part of me. And it goes both ways. He's a pretty prickly porcupine himself sometimes. You can ask any of the guys and they'll tell you the same about him. He even warned me about that himself when we first started dating."

Dawn asked Gabby "What about you? Do you want to defend yourself against Wendy's characterization or has she hit the mark?"

Gabby hemmed and hawed a bit, then said "Well, Micky is pretty eager. In fact, he's already told me he wants to live together as soon as he can afford it, or rather he said he wants to live together right now but knows it's not possible. But I told him that's a slippery slope to more commitment than I'm ready for and I told him he's probably not ready for it either. Neither of us is settled in our careers and we're both still dragging around baggage from our past. I told him I'd go see a shrink, but I can't afford it right now, so I need to find a job first. I don't think we can truly commit to anything major until I chase away the ghosts from my past. Until this stalker incident, I thought I had more damage than he did, but now I'm thinking we're both pretty damaged. I think he's still got the devil on his tail in terms of his past, too. You know he won't do a gig now if I'm not there? To me that means he's got some serious emotional scarring, not just from the assault but from the groupies in general. So you know, we're taking it slow, just like we said we would with the relationship when it started. I think that's the best way to go. We're in no hurry. Or if he's in a hurry, he knows it's better to take it slow, and is willing to follow my lead on that, even if it's only to keep me placated."

Wendy and Dawn took in this answer that was more serious than they were anticipating. Dawn asked "So do you think he's someone you'd want to end up living your life with?"

"I don't know, Dawn, but I'm pretty sure the answer is yes. I just don't think there's a need to ask or answer that question. I'd rather keep it in the day. Then we can live our lives together, enjoy the experiences we have, build on them, and let the time and commitment grow and pile up. I know he's committed to me and I am to him. I don't question that. I'm only concerned about how strong we are as individuals and whether we can support each other adequately in an emotional sense. I never want to let him down. But yeah, I'm committed to him right down to the bone. I'd do just about anything for him, as long as it made sense with my values and didn't hurt me. That's one big thing I learned from my last relationship."

Wendy and Dawn nodded their heads in comprehension and affirmation. Gabby picked up her bag and dictated her final marching orders for them. "Okay, chicks. Here's the tentative plan. Mike and I will be taking Davy down to the induction center at 9 a.m. and I'm not sure how long it will take for them to process him. As soon as we have news, I'll find a payphone and call one of you at work. If he passes the physical, then I doubt he's going to want your company and maybe not even mine, so we'll play that by ear. But keeping our mind on the positive track, let's assume he's going to flunk the physical and we need to whip up a celebration party quickly.

"Wendy, you will get one of your famous migraines and try to get permission to leave work. Dawn, you'll level with Steven today about what's going on and warn him to stay sober just in case in case you need to leave work tomorrow. You'll both stop at the grocery and liquor stores on your way over to the Pad and just bring as much stuff as you can afford. Mike says they have a grill, so I'll leave it up to him to buy that heavy duty stuff. Just buy snacks and whatever booze you want to get schnockered on. And Wendy, you get one of those sheet cakes and a squirty tube of icing and try to get at least the letters CONGRATS to fit on it. Don't bother with anything else fancy. You know what happened the last time you tried that." Gabby bored into her with one of her stern looks for a second, then the two girls busted up laughing at some inside joke that left Dawn bewildered and making a note to have Wendy fill her in on the details later.

Gabby wasn't done with her drill. "Finally, from now until you hear from me tomorrow, you are under strict instructions to pray, meditate or send positive vibes, whatever your conscience prefers and send them towards the Pad and then the induction center. My mom has always been a huge believer in the power of group prayer and we've done it a lot for my older brother and he's still alive and kicking, so let's do it for Davy, too. Okay, I'm off."

She hugged her girls and then jetted out the door to race back to the Pad. When she got there, she saw the most insane scene she had witnessed in that dwelling since she had been welcomed into the fold. Davy had the Monkees and Lynda doing calisthenics in the big room while the jukebox blasted. Lynda yelled over the din of the music: "Last minute calorie-burning session. We didn't trust Davy to go out on a run and make it back safely to the Pad, so he's punishing us by making us exercise in the house with him!"

Davy had now noticed that Gabby was standing with her mouth open, trying to absorb the insanity before her and yelled "Oy, Gabby, drop that bag and give me twenty!"

"Twenty? I can't do twenty?" Gabby yelped.

Micky gave her a look that silently said "Oh yes you can, I've seen it up close and personal."

She sighed and dropped to the floor and did the cheating kind of pushups that you do from your knees and did in fact manage twenty. She stood up, dusted off her hands, pointed at Micky and growled "You're cruisin' for a bruisin', Dolenz." Micky gave her his widest grin as if he relished the possibility.

Eventually, everyone was dripping with sweat and it was agreed that a plunge in the ocean was a good idea. Davy was allowed to join them provided he stayed close to shore instead of doing his usual dolphin imitation, as none of them was in the mood nor proficient a swimmer enough to go out and save him from drowning if he tired and began to sink. They ran out into the waves in their clothes, splashing around and playing like little children, kicking sand and water at each other. Micky and Gabby got into a sand crab fight, flinging the little critters at each other. Peter began to draw a labyrinth in the sand with a stick and recommended that Davy walk its perimeter as a way to meditate and gather his thoughts and gain mindfulness. At first Davy balked at what he called Pete's "hippie shit," but eventually he gave it a try and found it surprisingly soothing, not to mention it was another way of keeping on the move and burning a few more calories.

For Davy's dinner, Gabby had brought a treasure from her deep freezer, her grandma's Jewish chicken noodle soup. Davy opted to skip the noodles, vegetables and meat, but the broth was still delicious. Everyone else ate the soup and with it had challah, the bread that Jews eat on the Sabbath. Gabby figured they may as well do the full monty, and stopped off at a Jewish bakery near her place in West L.A. to buy the challah. For dessert, they had rugelach from the bakery, a Jewish dessert of rolled, flaky pastry covered with sugar and in this case, stuffed with chocolate chips.

After dinner, just for old time's sake, and for what Davy feared might be the last time, he and Lynda danced for a while to some songs on the jukebox. He chose slow songs, though, not really calculated to burn calories but rather to bring their bodies into close proximity. He held her and almost clutched her, though his pride was telling him not to show such vulnerability, nor to burden Lynda with such emotions. But he couldn't help it. As they swayed to the music, he stroked her hair, shoulders and back, as if memorizing them or saying goodbye to them.

Lynda took note of it all and didn't protest. She knew what he was experiencing and she was acquiescent because she knew she was saying goodbye herself. In her mind and heart, she had already said it on Friday night and now she was just a body in the room. She had already moved on with her life. Even if she hadn't met Robert at the gig on Saturday night, she had said her peace and liberated herself from her untenable position. She had done right by Davy and now her time of service was coming to an end. She wanted to wrap it up as compassionately and gracefully as possible. So she allowed him to cling to her and touch her. Oddly, she didn't feel objectified at this moment, one of her most contentious objections of all during their whole relationship. At this moment, she felt like a comfort blanket or a teddy bear that you would give a small child to help restore his world's axis to its proper spin. She was content to do that and be that for him. She put her arms around him and gave him a squeeze and patted his back and ran her hand through his hair, like she would comfort a small boy. She listened to him sob quietly and she let a few tears run down her cheeks herself. They clung to each other and continued to dance.

Everyone decided to turn in early. Gabby and Micky waited their turn for the bathroom and took a bath together, but it was one of their baths meant to induce drowsiness, not stimulate them sexually. They soaked and talked a bit, but mostly they just gazed at each other and petted parts of each other that didn't cause arousal. When they laid down on the bed, Mike was still obviously awake and Gabby asked him if he was concerned about whether Davy would be able to flunk the test. He assured her that Davy looked like absolute shit and well under the 100 pound mark, and that even if the scale the army was using was calibrated differently, they would take one look at Davy's protruding ribs and gaunt appearance and give him the heave-ho.

Gabby was fascinated with Mike having served in the armed services and wanted to hear more about it. "Mike, I know you know how opposed I am to the military, but I hope you don't think that I don't have tremendous respect for the service you gave to our country. I'd like to hear more about your experience in the Air Force."

"Aw, well, thanks, Gabby. I don't take it personally that you're against this war. I feel the same way you do. I think a country needs a prepared armed force for defensive purposes, but no how, no way ought we to be half a world away stickin' our noses in some tiny country settin' fire to villages and killin' innocent women and chillin' just so some generals and pinhead military planners back home can cover their backsides and say 'See, I was right, we can take that hill and maintain it in the name of democracy and only lose a maximum of a hundred of our men and don't worry about civilian casualties.' And don't get me started on what President Eisenhower called the military industrial complex. I got a good look at that racket when I was servin'. Those companies that sell all that stuff to the services make a fuckin' fortune and they're not gonna give up any opportunity they can to start a war if they see a profit comin' down the pike. And I'm not just talkin' about weapons. I'm talkin' about vehicles, food, tents, communications, infrastructure, private security details, all the way down to what we wipe our asses with. Everyone's got an incentive to keep that war goin' as long as possible. It's just a big ol' fat black entry on their ledger sheet."

"Wow, Mike, sounds like you and I are of one mind on this topic. I hope the next time I'm looking for folks to come to the next rally I organize, you'll think of being there."

"Yeah, well, Gabby, we'll see. I'm not much of a one for speakin' out on things. I let mah music talk for me most of the time."

"I dig, Mike."

"So what are your plans for getting' involved, Gabby? I know you were real active up at Berkeley. Wendy told me that."

"Well, as soon as we get Davy through his nightmare, I'm going to be making contact with a newspaper that's tapped in to the underground political and social scene and I've got some connections there and I'm hoping they'll hire me as a writer. I've also heard that President Johnson is going to be coming to town in June and I want to be ready for that with an anti-war protest. We need to show up in force and let him know what we think about his lousy, stinkin' war. So that's what I'm going to be working on. But first things first. Let's get Davy free and clear."

Mike peered at Gabby through the dark and said "Thanks, Gabby, for lookin' after our friend even before your own interests. I know you haven't been with us for very long, so it means a lot to me, to us, for you to be puttin' him first."

"Sure, Mike. There's always a hierarchy of priorities. First things first."

"Yeah, but not a lot of people walk their talk."

Gabby turned her head towards her lover. "I'm sure there's a song in there, right Micky?"

"Yeah, babe," Micky murmured, from his half-asleep twilight state.

"'Night Mike."

"'Night, Gabby."

Gabby settled down in the little bed with Micky and stroked his curly head to comfort herself. She was troubled and nervous for Davy despite Mike's reassurance. She eventually dropped off to sleep with her hand buried in Micky's locks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	37. Chapter 37

Mike and Gabby sat on folded chairs in a hallway outside the room where Davy was getting the once over by the army physician. Mike's knee was jiggling up and down like a metronome set on its highest rhythm. Gabby's tic was her habit of wringing her hands and chewing her fingernails. At one moment, they looked at each other, noticed each other's nervous gestures and broke into embarrassed smiles. Gabby extended her hand to Mike, who took it and gave it a fierce squeeze. They scooched their chairs closer to each other, sat holding hands and leaned into each other for comfort.

An hour passed, and then another forty-five minutes. Gabby had brought a book with her, but she was too nervous to pull it out of her bag to read it. Mike stood up and began to pace the floor, whistling a medley of Monkees' tunes, then switching to the Beatles' greatest hits. Gabby began to sing along softly. This carried them through another twenty minutes. Finally, Davy emerged from the room looking wrung out but relieved. He walked towards them and fell into their arms. Clearly, he had flunked the exam and had not been conscripted, else he'd have been shunted off into another room and been processed further for induction. They all stood and hugged and swayed and eventually Mike let out a very loud "Yeeeee-hawwwww!!!!!!"

Gabby and Davy started to laugh and cry. Mike pulled a harmonica out of his pocket and started to play the Monkees tune I'm A Believer as Gabby and Davy started to sing along. They practically skipped out of the building and out to the Monkeemobile. Gabby directed Mike to stop at the grocery store to buy the fixings for an epic barbecue picnic she and the girls were planning, and then the liquor store to make sure that everyone had their drink of choice. She told him what the girls were bringing so there was no doubling up. Davy was touched that so much trouble was being taken on his behalf.

When they got home to the Pad, Micky and Peter must have peeked out the window and seen the happy and relieved looks on their faces because a banner had quickly been hung on the second floor balcony that said "Screw You Army, You Can't Have Our Davy!" When Davy entered the Pad, he saw the banner and smiled as Peter and Micky rained down handfuls of popcorn on his head. Then Micky did his signature slide down the bannister, dashed over to his drum kit and bashed out a drum solo to put an exclamation point on their hysterical joy that Davy wasn't leaving them. Davy hugged Peter and then Micky.

Within a couple of hours, Dawn and Wendy had arrived with supplies. Gabby reassured Davy that Lynda would be over as soon as her shift at the boutique was over, sometime after five. Mike fired up the grill and the girls poured out pretzels, potato chips and whatever popcorn hadn't already been tossed at Davy. He started nibbling on this and that, but was waiting for the main event, which was the juicy burgers that Mike would be grilling up. Davy was a man of extreme discipline, even when he was starving at a banquet of junk food.

After about 40 minutes, the coals were glowing white and the meat was ready to go. Mike was just slapping burgers on the grill when the mail was shoved through the slot and Peter picked it up. Micky had a letter, which Pete handed to him. Micky received it casually, tossing it on the kitchen counter and deciding to wait to read it once the party was fully underway.

Eventually, everyone was sitting on the patio or the sand in front of the Pad with plates piled high with food, including burgers, potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans, corn on the cob and cut up fresh vegetables (at Dawn's insistence, since she was a bit of a health nut like Pete). Gabby had made a huge fruit salad and left Wendy in charge of bringing it, and that was part of the mix, too. Then Wendy brought out her sheet cake that bore the message CONGRAT – she had run out of room and the last "s" in the word CONGRATS never made it onto the cake. Davy was still pleased and touched.

The guys decided to build a bonfire and the girls started mixing up pitchers of margaritas. There were also beers and shot glasses for those who just wanted tequila without the window dressing the margarita ingredients provided. Somewhere amidst all of this, Lynda arrived and Davy hugged her for several minutes without moving. Then he shook off his reverie and pressed on her food and drink and got her settled in to catch up with them. She kicked off her work sandals and removed her stockings and began to get into the party atmosphere.

Micky wandered indoors to grab some ice from the freezer when he noticed the letter he had received and tossed on the kitchen counter. He tucked it into the waistband of his pants, grabbed the ice tray and walked back outside to the patio and delivered it to the girls, who had requested it for their drinks. Then he sat down behind Gabby in the sand, wrapped his legs around her and pulled out the letter to read it. As he scanned the letter's contents, his expression contorted in pain and confusion, and his body began to shake. Then he let out a mighty yowl and dropped the letter on the sand. He sprang to his feet and took off running down the beach towards the Nooky Nook.

Gabby was stunned and picked up the letter to see what its contents contained to bring on such a violent reaction from Micky. She didn't feel guilty for reading his private mail. They had established that they were one, and she felt that if anyone was going to be tasked with helping Micky deal with his distress, it was most likely going to be her and that she'd need as much information as she could possibly get. She quickly scanned the letter and gasped in horror, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a cry.

Everyone by now was looking to Gabby for an explanation for the ruckus and turmoil. Mike stepped up as leader, as was his rightful role and asked "Gabby, what's the story? What's goin' on?"

"Micky got a letter from someone who I think must be his aunt. She's written to let him know that his cousin George, who was serving as a marine in Vietnam, was killed. Micky told me about George when we took that trip to Carmel, but he asked me not to say anything about him to y'all and he wanted to keep it to himself, but they were very close as kids growing up and were keeping in touch while George was over there. George has three siblings and a girlfriend here at home. The only other thing I know about him is that the motorcycle Micky's been fixing up and restoring was something that he and George had been working on together before he got called up and he was looking forward to riding it with him when he got back home."

Everyone disappeared into themselves and got absorbed in their own thoughts, but they also snuck looks over at Davy, whom they had narrowly avoided losing. Davy looked like he was a dead man walking as he returned to the house silently with no comment on what he had just heard. Lynda pursued him and put her arm around him.

Gabby turned to Mike and asked "Do you think I should go to Micky or would it be better if you talk to him? You have experience in the military, and you must have known guys who died or guys who knew guys who died. I've got theoretical and philosophical knowledge, but not practical knowledge, except for all the guys I've helped to avoid the draft and the ones I've kept track of whom I failed to help dodge it. But I was never close to any of them personally. And you're his oldest and closest friend. I just don't know whose comfort he'd value more."

Mike looked at Gabby, smiled at her and said "Darlin', that's a no-brainer. From now until death do you part, it's always gonna be you. If he wants me, he'll come to me. But first, last and always, he's gonna want you by his side. So git. Go to him."

Gabby seemed stunned by the way Mike phrased his answer, but she knew in her heart that it had the ring of truth. She had just been in denial about the depth of Micky's love for her and hers for him. She saw her way clear now. So she began to walk to the Nooky Nook in search of her man, her love, her life partner, her Micky.

When she got there, she found Micky lying on the ground on his stomach with his head buried in his arms, sobbing. Great big, heaving, loud, gasping sobs. He whimpered and howled and moaned and shouted like he was being stabbed in the gut repeatedly. Then he would recede into a more passive crying, like he was nursing a grievance that had no cure and no complaint department to receive it. Then back to the anger and outrage and bewilderment and denial and "How could this be?" and "No it's not possible" and "Those motherfuckers didn't need to take my cousin," and "This fuckin' pointless war chewed him up and spit him out." and "Those officers treated him like cannon fodder and didn't see him like my cousin – he was just a number on a dog tag."

He tore at his hair and rubbed his eyes as if to wake himself from a nightmare but he couldn't awaken because it was real and he knew it. Today would never be yesterday, when George was still alive and breathing, and every other day would be another day when George was dead and not breathing, and that inexorable fact weighed on him like an anvil on his chest, until he couldn't breathe and he began to gasp for air. This time it was Gabby's turn to help Micky restore his breathing and she took his hand and placed it on her chest and said "Breathe, Micky, breathe, follow me. In, out, in out." Until this moment, he hadn't really registered her presence and now his eyes flew open and he looked at her in terror and shame at her seeing him in such a state of disrepair and unraveled insanity.

She quickly reassured him. "It's okay, Micky. I know you're a mess, and it's okay to be that way with me. You've seen me that way and you didn't judge me, and I'm not judging you either. We are one. We're going to stay here and breathe together and I'm going to feel what you are feeling and I'm not leaving you to deal with this on your own. So be as much of a wreck as you need to be. I'm part of you. Just let it all out."

His lip quivered and trembled and then he began to wail and howl again but now he reached for Gabby for comfort and rocked back and forth with her as they lay on the sand together. She stroked his back and his hair and his head and any place on him that her hands could reach to make soothing contact. She murmured encouragement to let it all out and to just carry on as much as he needed to. He continued to emote and verbalize his distress for at least another half hour before he finally began to recede into quieter whimpers and sniffles. Then his body began to shake and she tightened her grip on him, and he grabbed her tighter as well, hanging on to her like she was a life raft in a choppy sea in a storm.

Now she spoke. "Micky, my Micky. I read the letter. I needed to know what was causing you such distress. And I told everyone else what's going on because they needed to know, too. I want you to know that you are not alone. You may feel like you are, but you're not. Of course we're all going to give you space to process your feelings however you need to, but you have people who love you all around you. We just got through three weeks of hell with Davy, and we're all in fighting form to help you through this. Mike knows about military life. He might have some insight into what George's last moments were like. I hope you'll reach out to him. Davy's just been through a horrendous experience that gives him a unique perspective on this situation and he might find it cathartic to talk about this with you and you could help each other. I've known lots of guys who I tried to help dodge the draft but I failed and they died, but I didn't know them personally or closely. So we're all here to help you. Please don't shut down or go inside yourself and shut us out. Please stay open and know that you are not alone. But of course, take the time you need to do whatever you feel is best to heal. I won't pressure you to talk to any of us if you don't want to. I just came over here to let you know I'm here if you need me. Would you rather be alone now, or should I stay?"

Micky raised his head and looked at her and said "Please don't leave me, Gabriella. Please never leave me. Ever. I want you with me for everything and forever."

Gabby smiled and said "That's what Mike said, when I asked him whether he or I should be the one to come over here to talk to you. I guess I've been slow on the uptake on what I mean to you and what our relationship means to you."

Micky's lip trembled and he said "Now's not the time for me to explain it, but I'll just say that you are my everything. We'll leave it at that. Nothing has changed. I love you, Gabby."

"I love you, too, Micky. And I really do believe down to my bones that you and I are one. I just think that who we are is two people who still have some growing to do. But I don't want to grow up with anyone but you. I want to make that journey with you."

"Please don't leave me, Gabby," Micky whispered and reached for her, pulling her back down on the ground with him. He rocked her back and forth close to his body, clutching her.

"I'm not going anywhere, Micky. You have my body, heart and soul. I'm here. I'm with you." She stroked his hair and brushed it away from his face, then kissed him on his cheeks and forehead and nose and that little dip above his upper lip. She sipped away his tears and more poured from his eyes, so she drank them as they dropped. Then she took a tissue from her pocket and gave it to him so he could blow his nose and clean his face a bit. But there were more tears that quickly bathed his face and he began to tremble again, so she held him close to her and resumed stroking him to try to still his fearful shakes.

Finally, she had him lying quietly in her arms and she traced designs on his back and neck and tangled her fingers in his curls and caressed his ears soothingly. He snuggled down into her and fell into a fitful sleep for a while and she sat up and let him put his head in her lap. As she looked out into the ocean and stroked his head and neck, she could see Mike coming towards them slowly, peeking his head over the rocks that shielded them from view. He mouthed "Are you okay?" She nodded back and he gave her the okay symbol with his hand and retreated back to the Pad.

Eventually, Gabby's need to answer the call of nature necessitated her easing Micky down on the sand and her squatting down behind a rock, but fortunately Micky slept like a corpse, and she was able to take care of business and get back to him without him realizing she had been gone. She resettled him on her lap and let him sleep for a while longer, then as the sun began to get lower in the sky, she gave him a shake and asked him how he was feeling.

"I feel wrung out and like I got hit by a Mack truck. Gabby, I feel like I can't stay where I am. I want to run away again. Can we go away somewhere?"

"Where do you want to go this time, Micky?"

"I don't know. Can you take care of me and take me somewhere?"

"Well, if you're going to put me in charge, then I dictate the terms. First of all, I don't think it should be just you and me. I think you need your friends. I don't want to supplant their place in your life. I know you say I'm your everything, but I don't want to be your exclusive source of support. The Monkees were your everything before I showed up, and they should remain a huge part of your life now that I'm here. So I insist that they come with us if they're willing. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, if that's what you think is best and if they're willing."

"Okay, well I think I have a plan. Wendy's folks have a condominium down in Palm Springs. We used to go down there for Spring Break when we were girls and get all silly and spend our days in the pool and just get absolutely wild and obnoxious and drive all the old folks crazy. It's not fancy, but it's a pretty big place and I'll bet her folks would let us borrow it. Let me talk to Wendy and see if she'd let us use it. Maybe I can even get her to tell her employer there's been a death in the family and she'll come with us. How does that sound to you?"

"That sounds good. Can we go right away? Tomorrow?"

"Let me ask Wendy, my love. Let's go back and rejoin the party. Let's remember that this is a celebration for Davy. You don't have to take part in it if you're not up for it, but let's try to be glad for him and give him this day. He's been through hell, and juxtaposing this news you've just received with his own situation, it's got to be eating him up inside with some guilt. I can only imagine how he's feeling right now. I want to touch base with him and see how he's doing. Okay? You ready to go back to the Pad or would you like to stay here?"

"I'd like to stay here if that's okay with you."

"Okay, my Micky. That's fine. But please do stay here. Don't go wandering and don't go in the water. You've been drinking and you're all worked up into a state. I'm going to send Mike out to watch over you. He won't come over and talk to you unless you want him to, but I want someone nearby to make sure you're safe. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, babe."

"You got it."

Micky laid back down on the pebbly sand and slept for a couple more hours, until Gabby came and led him inside to his own bed, where the grief overtook him and cloaked him in its malaise for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	38. Chapter 38

Wendy checked in with her folks and they were happy to loan their condo, then she called the record store to let them know that her cousin had perished in Vietnam. They didn't question the family connection. Family was all at Wallichs and that was that. They told her to take as much time as she needed. Dawn was down for the cause and left Steven with a babysitter to make sure he didn't burn the store down. Lynda couldn't get away from the store immediately, but promised to drive down when she could. They left early Tuesday morning for the 2 ½ hour drive southeast to Palm Springs and rolled up to Wendy's folks' condo just before noon.

It was a four-bedroom condominium that was part of a complex of other little houses owned by other families that only visited sporadically throughout the year, then either rented their houses to other visitors on an ad hoc basis or just left them empty if they were wealthy enough to afford it. Wendy's family fell into the latter category, which is why they were able to schedule an impromptu visit. Wendy and Mike claimed the master bedroom, as the unofficial hosts, and the others scattered to check out the rest of the bedrooms, which were more or less the same. Gabby bagged the one with a bathtub/shower combination attached to it, with memories of Carmel and Micky's and her emotional needs in mind. A bathtub at the end of the day was their refuge and a place for them to commune quietly and wrap up the day on a quiet note.

The other two rooms shared a bathroom with a shower. Pete and Dawn would have been just as happy with a garden hose, so they didn't really care, and although Davy was extremely fussy about his hygiene routine, he was glad to concede any earthly comforts now to Micky, who was nearly catatonic with woe and hurt. Davy was utterly stunned at the turn of events and how quickly he had had to pass the baton of misery to Micky, and his heart was aching for him. His concern for Micky almost obliterated the sorrow he felt for the absence of Lynda's company. He also felt a huge debt of gratitude to Gabby, and was determined to help support her in making sure Micky got the emotional support that he needed.

Everyone dropped their gear and piled back into the cars for a trip to the market to pick up supplies, then next to the liquor store to stock up on booze. It was decided that they wouldn't do any driving or off-site activities on the first part of this trip and that keeping Micky in a mild alcoholic haze warmed by the sun for a bit might help him over the hump of the initial shock. Then, after a day or two of drinking and lazing around at the pool with their instruments and books and other diversions, they would venture out to town and maybe see the sights a bit. They would drive back to Malibu in time for their Friday gig and not worry about practice that week and just give Micky a chance to heal and revive. They knew that these days, performing in public was becoming traumatic in and of itself for him and they wanted to keep things as stress-free for him as possible. Pete even procured some weed in case Micky decided to partake. Desperate times called for desperate measures, he explained to Gabby, who grimly clamped her lips shut and just shrugged her shoulders. She decided that Micky was his own person and it was his decision to use drugs before he met her and he was still free to use them now that he was with her. But she was going to have no part of it and she still stood firm on that.

So after returning from the market and putting away all the supplies, they got down to the very serious business of relaxing. Gabby sat on the edge of the bed with Micky as he stared at the floor seeing nothing, and asked him if he wanted to change into his swimsuit and lie out at the pool. He shrugged his shoulders and didn't speak.

"Micky, you asked me to take you away and to take care of you, so I'm going to guide you through this trip, okay? Will you let me do that?"

"Yeah, that's probably best."

"Okay, so let's get you undressed and into your swimsuit and out to the pool. There's a nice, dry heat out there and it will feel great on your skin. There's a gentle breeze that feels like a kiss and the heat feels like a hug."

She helped him take his clothes off and step into his swim shorts. Then she took him by the hand and guided him out to the pool. He was like a blind man, looking at nothing and bumping into furniture and the door jamb as she attempted to guide him outside. She carried a towel and his sunglasses and his book for him. She settled him on a lounger and then asked him if he wanted her to put some sunscreen on him. He looked at her like she was speaking Swahili, so she just grabbed the tube of lotion and started to cover him with the white stuff to make sure he didn't get sunburned in the harsh desert sun. He started to react to her touch and lean in to her caresses and whimper a bit, and she cooed and said quietly, "I know, my Micky, I know. It will be okay. Just relax and I'll take care of you."

After she finished with Micky's skin, she attended to her own but couldn't reach her back. She was asking Davy to take care of it when Micky noticed her handing him the tube and he suddenly came back to Earth and snatched it out of Davy's hand and said "I'll take care of her, thanks, Davy." Davy grinned and said "Of course, mate, you'll do a much better job. I'm a butterfingers when it comes to that sort of thing." Davy was glad to see Micky perking up, if only to claim and mark his territory. Gabby smothered a grin behind her hand, but she winked at Davy.

After Micky was done smoothing lotion on Gabby's back, she turned around and gave him a kiss with plenty of tongue and said "Thank you, Micky. That was lovely." Then she went to fetch him a drink. Wendy and Dawn had concocted daiquiris of some indeterminate fruit flavor that were wickedly strong and she handed one to Micky. He accepted it and sipped it while staring off into space. Gabby picked up her book, an Agatha Christie (she didn't dare bring the book about Vietnam on this trip), and began to lose herself in a village mystery called _Nemesis_ , full of gossip and a nosy old lady sleuth called Miss Marple. She also had beside her a stack of expensive European fashion magazines that Dazzling Dan had tried to woo her with after he discovered she was dating Micky. She had loaned them to Lynda to read first and was looking forward to perusing them herself now. She sipped from her highly alcoholic drink and felt for the moment like a lady of leisure.

Wendy had been instructed to keep an eye on Micky and to replenish his first drink as soon as it was empty. They didn't want to get him falling-down drunk, but just to loosen him up and get him to drop his inhibitions and open up a bit. So Micky sipped away at his drink and then Wendy came scurrying over to him with another daiquiri the minute he drained the last drop and snatched the old glass away, replacing it with a full new one.

"Thanks, Wendy," Micky managed to maintain his innate good manners, even when his world was falling apart.

"No problem, Micky. Let me know if I can get you anything else."

Soon, the second glass was gone and Micky's eyes seemed a bit less blank but a bit more glassy. Still, it was an improvement, to Gabby's estimation. She asked him if he'd like to take a dip in the pool or Jacuzzi and he agreed to start in the Jacuzzi and then cool off in the pool. Gabby turned on the jets of bubbling water and they stepped into the water that was like a hot bath. Gabby maneuvered Micky so that he was sitting right in front of one of the jets. It hit him in the small of his back so that he arched in pleasure and moaned a bit and leaned in to it. Watching him react to the sensations the Jacuzzi was causing him made her feel a twitch between her legs and her breathing sped up a bit.

Gabby looked down into the water and noticed that Micky's bathing suit was billowing around his legs a bit as the water gurgled and swirled around him. She moved closer to him and sat on the ledge in the water next to him, then took her hand and carefully moved it up his leg and into the gap the water had created between his bathing suit and his crotch. He had his eyes closed and was enjoying the sensations of the water, so he was jolted with surprise when he felt her hand snaking up and stroking his penis enclosed in the mesh built-in underwear of the swimsuit. He opened one eye and looked down at her hand then up to her face and cracked a smile when he saw she was holding back a giggle. Then he closed his eye again and settled back to his former pose and decided to just lie back and let her have at it.

Taking his acquiescence as the go-ahead, she pushed aside the mesh pouch that contained his equipment and took hold of his penis and sacs and began to stroke and fondle them. He was now hard and fully at attention. His legs were now taut, seeking to gain traction on the ledge to hold himself still so that he could optimize the amount of contact he was receiving from Gabby's hand. Seeing that he was a bit too focused now, she decided to tease him a bit and she let her hand stray up towards his belly, tangled her fingers in the hair that led up to his belly button and stroked him there and back down again a couple of times. He started to fidget and she took mercy on him, returning with a firm grip on his shaft and stroking him again. She let her thumb and forefinger tweak and rub the tip and he jumped and jerked a bit each time she did that.

Gabby had always felt self-conscious about her hand-job skills. No one had ever really taken the time to show her what to do and she had confessed as much to Micky. He had promised to tutor her, but they had not had much opportunity for lessons, as something else always intervened. Now, he decided, was the perfect opportunity. He grabbed hold of her hand and guided it over his penis. He put his hand over hers, they came to a silent agreement as to what was happening, and then he closed his eyes again and let the moment take him away.

He moved his hand over hers and touched himself, but it was her hand that made the contact. He stroked his penis in various places slowly, up and down, side to side, fast, slow, then down to his balls, then back up to the head, then here, then there in some instinctive combination that made magic for him that she wanted to memorize for future reference. She knew that in other circumstances she would just ask him why this, why now, how does that feel, and many other questions, but this was such an unusual and voyeuristic circumstance that all she could do was to be mute and hold on for the ride. The main sensation she felt was absolute joy that Micky was getting what he wanted and needed, and that she had a part in it.

She felt his legs tighten and she slid her thigh over his between his two legs to give him something to brace himself against when the pending explosion came. Almost as soon as she did that, his back arched and she felt warm jets of his seed coating her hand. She hoped that there was plenty of chlorine in the Jacuzzi and reckoned that come wasn't any less sanitary than pee, which at least a certain percentage of people did in any body of water, no matter how much they lied about it.

Micky was surprisingly silent and discreet about his orgasm, which was highly uncharacteristic for him, an indication of how disoriented and knocked off his moorings he had become after receiving news of his cousin's death. In fact, all she could hear him doing right now was whimpering a bit. That seemed to be his default sound effect right now for any situation. He was broken and sad and defeated and raw, and all he could do was whimper. She moved closer to him and kissed his forehead and said "I'm with you, Micky, all the way. Let me take care of you. I'll take care of you."

Gabby knew that this was just a physical release that Micky needed. It wasn't a statement of love or emotion. But it was part of the healing he needed to do. So she was surprised when he swooped in and captured her lips in his and said "You are everything to me. Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Micky, I just spent three weeks triaging your little Limey friend. Of course I'm not going to give up on you. I'm going to stand by you and take care of you. Because there are going to be days coming soon, especially when I can finally afford that shrink, when you're going to be scraping me up off the floor. So I'm paying it forward." She nudged his nose with hers and made him open his eyes and look at her. He did and saw her smiling up at him, and he returned the smile with a frail half-smile of his own. She hugged him and stroked his hair.

"How'd that feel? I enjoyed getting my first hand job lesson, though next time we do that, I'd like to do it when I can ask you some questions about the why and wherefore."

Micky sighed and shivered. "It was fucking fantastic."

"Good. It was also meant to be therapeutic. You needed a release. You were too wound up."

Micky smirked and said "So you think sex is the remedy for grief?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Gabby protested. "I'm not that shallow, but I do think that the chemicals it releases in your body can counteract the stress hormones your body is producing in overabundant supply. I learned that in my biology class in college. So that's some very expensive, high-pedigree knowledge you can take to the bank!"

Micky chuckled and said "Okay, Professor Levitt. If you say so, I will submit to your regimen of sex therapy, but only in the interests of science!"

"Well, you've been telling me that science is your passion. Let's experiment with it and see how we do. Then you can write up our findings and deliver a speech about it to the Royal Society or whatever the American equivalent is."

"Sounds good to me. I might even win a Nobel prize."

"Hey," cried Gabby. "You mean _we_ might win the prize. I came up with the idea. You're my research partner!"

"You're right, I'm sorry. So we're going to need to be diligent and very disciplined about this. I'll let you work out the methodology and protocols and series of experiments and then you let me know what to do and I'll be there."

Gabby pinched Micky's cheek and said "See, you're already sounding halfway human again. Sex is an irresistible driver of instinctual behavior. Oh, Micky. Let's get you pink and healthy again. I love you."

Micky grabbed hold of Gabby and hugged her hard. "I love you, too, Gabby. I love you. I love you. I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	39. Chapter 39

The evening brought the comforting cloak of darkness, and Micky felt less exposed and did not even to attempt to disguise his facial expression as anything less than utterly miserable. Wendy and Mike built a fire in the fire pit, and some other young folks who were visiting their families, whom they had gotten to know while lounging around the pool now gathered around the flames. Mike and Peter brought out their guitars, and Davy created a gentle beat on a set of bongos that normally Micky would bash away on. They sang popular and folk songs, not Monkees songs. There were also protest songs and some country songs that Mike loved so dearly and sang with a slight yodel and falsetto that impressed Gabby and made Wendy swoon. Peter's heart and soul were in the blues and he shared some of his favorite tunes in that rich vein of music. Many of the other visitors sang along, and it was a very mellow, friendly scene. Micky just looked on and stayed silent.

Micky leaned against a wall bordering the pool boundary and Gabby sat between his legs and knees, with his arms around her. He clutched her like a teddy bear, much like Davy had clamped down on Lynda the night before his army physical, she observed. It occurred to her how fundamental, simple and universal one's needs are when faced with fear of death, grief and other sorrow or turmoil. All one needed was someone to love. Looking around her at the group assembled, she realized it didn't even have to be romantic love. Friendship, even fellowship with strangers and connection with humanity was important.

Pete passed around a joint and when it came to Micky, he looked at it and then to Gabby. She shrugged her shoulders and stayed neutral. She didn't want to influence Micky one way or another, but in her heart she hoped he wouldn't take it. She had watched Wendy use drugs to her detriment when they were growing up, making one dumb decision after another while under the influence, thinking somehow that alcohol and drugs weren't equivalent in altering one's judgment and to be treated with equal caution. She also felt that illegal drugs, unlike alcohol, brought with them a set of societal ills that would always pose a threat of gang violence, political unrest, fear, illness and poverty, which wasn't worth the tradeoff for the privilege of some rich white kids to get their jollies. Her final objection was that the sight of a joint up close sent a zing of pain through her nervous system because it reminded her of the time Nick had gotten her drunk and forced her to get high so that he could coerce her into a threesome with that groupie. For the most part, she was able not to judge others for what they did, but because she felt so connected to Micky, she felt like if he inhaled, it would be as if she did, too.

Micky shook his head and gazed off into the distance and the joint passed him by. Gabby exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and Micky took his palm and brought it to her cheek and stroked it, silently affirming he had made a decision that took her into consideration. She placed her hand over his and stroked it. A tear trickled from her eye and he kissed it away. She leaned back against him and the moment silently passed.

Micky hadn't said a word for over an hour and Gabby was concerned that he was feeling overwhelmed and was unable to verbalize it, so she asked him about his status.

"My Micky, how are you doing? Are you okay here, or do you want to go in and go to bed?"

"Bed," Micky said succinctly and rose, helping Gabby to her feet.

Gabby said goodbye to their new acquaintances and wished everyone goodnight.

Gabby ran the bathtub and helped Micky get undressed. He was still stumbling and stiff and awkward. She eased him into the tub and then climbed in and leaned back against him and ran a washcloth over his limbs gently. She hummed and cooed and made comforting sounds, as if she were bathing an infant or a puppy. A pug puppy. Micky closed his eyes and just passively accepted Gabby's love and care.

She finished taking care of him, then washed herself and rinsed them both off and coaxed Micky up and out of the tub. She helped him dry off and get into his pajamas, and put him to bed like a little boy. He laid curled up with his head on her belly while she read her Miss Marple book in one hand and stroked his curls with the other. Eventually he dozed off and she too went to sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Gabby awoke to the sound of shouting and realized it was Micky's voice she heard. He was thrashing and yelling and she realized he wasn't awake. He was having a nightmare.

"Micky, Micky, I'm here! Wake up! You're safe. I'm here. Come on, Micky. You're okay."

She shook his shoulders gently and his eyes sprang open. He had sweat beaded on his forehead and his upper lip and tears streaming from his eyes. He sat up abruptly and cried "Davy, Davy, where's Davy? Is he okay?"

Gabby was puzzled at first but then intuited that he had transferred the weeks-long worry he had been holding in over possibly losing his dear friend to the war machine over to his grief about his cousin's death, and he must have been having a nightmare that mixed up the two.

"Davy's in the other room, Micky. He's fine. Want me to go get him?"

"Davy, I want to see Davy!"

"Okay, hold on, I'll go get him.

Gabby slipped from their room and padded down the hall to Davy's room. She tapped on his door and heard him breathing but got no answer. She cracked the door open and called to him.

"Davy, I'm sorry to wake you, but I need you. It's Gabby. Davy, please wake up! Micky's having a nightmare and he needs you."

Davy roused from his sleep and sat up in bed. Gabby blushed when she realized that he was completely naked and that not everything was concealed by the sheets. She looked away to give him a chance to cover up.

"Davy, Micky was having a nightmare about you and he woke up screaming. Can you come to our room and help me get him settled back down? He's asking for you."

"Sure, no worries. Let me just get something on and I'll be right there."

Gabby hurried back to Micky and Davy appeared at their door in a few moments. He walked over to Micky and sat down next to him on the bed, placing his arm around his friend's shoulder and ruffling his hair.

"Hey, Mate. I hear you were asking for my company. I know I'm irresistible, but this is a bit above the odds, yeh?"

Micky clutched Davy to him and hugged him. "Thank God you're safe. I just had to see you for myself. It felt so real. I was dreaming that you were over there and you got blown up. You stepped on a landmine and your guts flew everywhere and your limbs broke off and all that was left of you was your head."

Davy turned pale but tried to keep up a false front. "Well, hey, was my hair at least well combed?"

Micky knew Davy was trying to lighten the situation, but he wasn't really able to laugh. He raised the corner of his mouth in an attempted smile but it came across as more like a grimace.

"Micky, mate, I'm here. I'm not going over there. None of us is. We're all in the clear now. Mike's done his bit, you're too skinny, I'm too small, and Pete's too gay."

Gabby looked bewildered at him and asked "What?"

Now Micky managed a small laugh and said "Ask Pete how he managed to avoid the draft. Or maybe don't. He might not want to talk about it. You're right, Davy. We're all safe now. I gotta let that sink in. I'm still on autopilot mode with worrying, and then losing George just set me off and I got the two of you confused in my subconscious." He lunged for Davy and hugged him fiercely. "I'm so glad we've still got you and we won't be losing you. We all have to stick together. We can't ever part. None of us. Not us guys or the girls. The world doesn't make any sense anymore without everyone.

Davy looked a bit sad that he couldn't fulfill every part of Micky's request. "Well, Micky, I'm not sure I can keep everything intact for you. Lynda may stick around as our friend, but she's already pretty much said goodbye as me girlfriend. But she said she'd try to get down here if she can get the time off from work and I believe she'll do her best. She cares about you as much as the other girls, and I want her to stick around, too. But Micky, don't worry. We're all here for you."

"Yeah, you're here. Thank God."

"You feel like you can get back to sleep? Want me to stay?"

"I'm okay now. I've caused you enough trouble for one night. Go back to bed. Gabby will help me get back to sleep. Thanks, Davy. You're my brother as much as my friend."

"I feel the same, Mick."

Davy gave Gabby a hug and whispered "You okay?"

She nodded her head and whispered back "Thanks, Davy."

Gabby got Micky settled back into bed, his head on her belly again, as she stroked his hair and she read her book. They both nodded off fairly quickly and the rest of the night passed uneventfully. Gabby dreamt of walking a pug puppy with Micky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	40. Chapter 40

Gabby got up and left Micky sleeping in the bed still. She felt he needed some extra rest and didn't want to wake him. Everyone else was up and eating breakfast or finishing up with morning showers and grooming routines. Subject to contrary wishes expressed by Micky, the group decided that another day at the pool was what Micky needed, though they also decided to try and get him more involved with the group, with games in the pool or at least conversation.

Everyone headed out to the pool while Gabby hung back in the condo waiting for Micky to rise. She was lying on the couch, riveted to her mystery story, and didn't notice that Micky had padded out into the living room and crept up on her. He kissed the top of her head and jolted her out of her reverie.

"Jeez, Micky! You caught me by surprise!"

"Maybe that's because you're lost in an English village in the 1940s instead of living in the present day in Palm Springs. I love watching you climb through the covers of your books and disappear into them. It charms me."

"You're right. That's where I was. I guess that's why they call fiction escapist reading. How are you feeling this morning?"

Micky made a sound like "mmmph" and swiped his hands over his whiskers and said "Pretty rough. I still feel like I got hit by a truck, and my head's all foggy. I can't get a single coherent thought together."

"That's okay, Micky. That's the shock you're processing. Do you remember your nightmare from last night?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm feeling bad about it and sort of embarrassed."

"Don't torture yourself, Micky. If you can't fall apart in front of your closest friends and lover, then when and where can you? You don't need to hide your emotions and turmoil from us. It's not like we don't know what you're up against, even if none of us has personal experience with it. We're all here for you. You're just going to have to go through your process and lean on us until you feel like you can stand up again on your own. In the meantime, how about some breakfast?"

"Yeah, okay. Should I bother to shave? I mean, what's the point? What's the point of anything?"

"You don't have to shave, Micky, you have nowhere to be today. But don't skip shaving if it's because you think everything in life is pointless, because that's not true. How about you skip shaving so that you can rub your whiskers all over me later and make me squirm?"

Micky perked up at this notion and said "Okay, that sounds good," and sat down at the kitchen table while Gabby grabbed a bowl and poured him some cereal and orange juice, the disgusting concoction he liked to ingest in the morning.

"Where's everyone else?" Micky inquired, noticing the quiet atmosphere of the house.

"They're all out by the pool. They're waiting for you to begin an epic game of Marco Polo, or King of the Mountain, or maybe find a volleyball net. They need you to help get everyone organized. They're all sort of at sixes and sevens without your usual activities director hat on. But if you're not up to it, tell me and I'll tell them to just get on without you."

Micky stared off into space for a minute, processing the thought of the before and after of when he used to be the guy who always got the gang organized and started the fun, versus now, in his pose as a forlorn and broken man. His spoon was loaded with cereal and was halfway to his mouth, dripping with orange juice, and he just stared ahead of him, contemplating which direction he wanted his life to take in that moment, on that day. Then he shoveled the cereal into his mouth and said "Tell 'em not to start the party without me. I'll be out soon."

Gabby leaned down and kissed his neck, stroked his collar bone and said "Okay, Micky, I'll do that," and left him at the table to eat his breakfast and have some space to think his own thoughts.

Gabby rushed out to the pool and gave a thumbs up to everyone, and asked their new friends whether they had a volleyball net. They conferred and discovered that one of them did in fact have a net and a ball. Two of them hustled out of the pool and over to the friend's parent's house to fetch it. By the time Micky emerged from the house and ambled over to the pool, the guys were struggling to set the net up across the width of the pool. Micky surveyed their comically inept efforts, put his hands on his hips and shook his head in mock frustration. "Jeez guys, do I have to show you how to tie your own shoelaces, too? Let me help you out with that."

Within a few minutes, the net was in place, teams were chosen and it was decided that each team had to have at least two guys with girls on their shoulders to balance the equities and to protect the girls from being overtaken by the heavier, taller guys. Gabby insisted that she be allowed to play on her own two feet, thankyouverymuch, but Wendy agreed to mount Mike's shoulders since she was so short and also she was acting as sports bookie on this event and wanted to win the betting pool. Dawn climbed Peter's shoulders, which turned out to be a mistake, since she was so tall that her legs practically touched the pool's bottom. Gabby relented and climbed upon Micky's shoulders and the game began.

They agreed to observe the same rules that would apply on dry land, and the score would be played to 21 points. Davy very craftily discovered that no one had made any ruling about swimming _under_ the net and he started nobbling the competition by knocking their feet out from under them before they could plant themselves for a decent spike of the ball. After one too many times of this type of shenanigan, a new rule was declared banning it. There was much shrieking, laughter, trash-talking and good-natured competition.

The Monkees got their asses handed to them, losing 12-21, but as recompense for collecting on their winnings, the other players offered to take the money to the liquor store and put the money towards purchasing a keg, which was awfully sporting of them. Soon, they returned with a keg and a pump and a convivial party atmosphere reigned. Gabby, Dawn and Wendy fixed lunch for everyone, with the addition of more food contributed by their new friends, and set it all up on patio tables on Wendy's parents' property. Just as the party was entering full swing, Lynda arrived and a loud cheer permeated the general din of chatter. She hugged everyone, particularly Micky, and also Davy, who was sincerely glad to see her. She quickly ran into the house to swap out her working clothes with a black bikini and joined the milling throng.

Micky seemed to be coming out of his haze. He was at least conversing with people when spoken to, though his answers were not as verbose or exuberant as they normally would be, and he initiated conversation with no one, not even Gabby. He mostly stared off into space and only responded to questions posed to him. Gabby kept him fed and watered with the drink of his choice, and she stroked and petted him to comfort him.

Gabby decided that a way to get Micky to snap out of his funk would be to put his keen mind to work on something he could give application to, so she offered to teach him how to play backgammon. He shrugged his shoulders apathetically and allowed her to lead him to a lounger and set up a game board between them and listened while she explained the rules. Then they struggled through the first game while she showed him the ropes. On the second game around, he seemed to take off the training wheels and wanted to figure out his next move on his own.

By the fifth game, Micky was laser-focused on the game and whipping Gabby's ass. By the seventh game, he started up with the trash-talk, and be the tenth game, he was challenging her to a tournament whose stakes were sexual favors. Gabby thought this was the ultimate superfluous and frivolous use of a prize pool, given that Micky knew very well that he had her twisted around his finger and the only thing he couldn't get from her would be to let him fuck her up the ass, which she had explicitly warned him against. But she went along, just glad to see him perking up and motivated, as usual, by his favorite driving force – his dick and libido.

They began a best two out of three tournament, whose stakes were a midnight lovemaking session in the pool if Micky won, and if Gabby won, Micky had to jerk off for her while she watched. The other confounder was that Gabby insisted that any time either of them rolled a double, the opponent had to take a shot of tequila. Without filling Wendy in on the stakes of their bet, Gabby instructed her to bring the bottle of the golden elixir and two shot glasses and two limes (no salt) and line them up on a small table next to them. Then the game began.

What Micky didn't know was that Gabby's older brother had taught her how to play backgammon and although she wasn't very good, she was uncannily lucky, and her brother's nickname for her was "Big Six" for the frequency with which she rolled double sixes. Gabby hit two double sixes in the first game alone. Micky knew he was in for a rough ride but he buckled down and tried to keep his mind on the game. Gabby won the first game easily nonetheless.

The second game was a game of tug of war. They each were constantly bumping each other back to their starting positions, and neither of them got any doubles. Neither got particularly good rolls, either. It was a frustrating, uninspiring game that turned out to be a slog and a race to the end, with Micky eking out a win by two pieces. Gabby furrowed her brows and blew on the dice to try to vex them against Micky and throw their juju in her favor.

The third game was like the Wild West. Every time Micky tried to break free of Gabby's home turf, she would bump him and send him back home. In the meantime, she was building up an inexorable wall of her own pieces to block him in. She also got double threes, double fours, and a double six over the course of four throws. Micky was beside himself and convinced the dice were fixed. He insisted that Gabby take a shot in the interests of fairness and equity. Gabby told him to take his fairness and equity and shove it up his cute, perfect ass, but she took pity on him and took a shot just because she was enjoying herself and was getting cocky, looking forward to Micky having to get cocky for her later. This was a grave error in judgment.

While Gabby was ingesting the shot, Micky managed to roll a double six and sneak a piece past her impenetrable wall and she let his piece sit there free and open without bumping him, not to mention she had to drink another shot. All of a sudden, the tide had turned and Micky swiftly started to leap over Gabby's pieces and even forced her to hit him and leave one of her own pieces open, then he bumped her and sent her all the way back to the her beginning position and her game plan started to fall apart. Calamity cascaded upon another when Micky rolled double fours and Gabby had to drink another shot, her third in the space of ten minutes. At this point, Gabby was having trouble focusing her vision, never mind figuring out what the wisest move was to make on the board. The game ended like the tortoise and the hare, with Micky methodically removing all his pieces from the board, while Gabby tried to rush over to her home court and kept getting bumped back by Micky. In the end, he gammoned her, which meant he got all his pieces off without her having removed a single one of hers. He threw his arms up in the air and began to crow and brag. Then feeling that this was an insufficient show of triumph, he rose to his feet and began to dance around her and poke her in the ribs and her ticklish spots.

All of Micky's friends were now observing his happy dance and grinning, relieved to see him reverting to his natural state of being, which meant happy, confident, joyful and living life to its fullest. They were impressed with Gabby's cunning at managing to draw him out of his funk and appreciative of her presence in their lives and the joy she brought to Micky's life. Finally, they were amused to watch Gabby's utterly bewildered face process the fact that she had just gotten her ass kicked at her own game by a total beginner, and the speculation as to what the stakes of the game had been began to circulate. Given Micky's jubilation, most assumed it had to be sexual in nature.

Micky lifted Gabby up into his arms and carried her into the pool, figuring she was going to need to sober up before she'd be fit to deliver on her wager. He swirled her around and dunked her skin gently beneath the surface of the water, but kept her head above it so that she wouldn't choke or come to any harm. He took his hand and splashed some water on her face and hair and smoothed them with the back of his hand lovingly. She lolled here head back and slurred "Micky, yer lovely, you know that? Even when you kick my ass at my own game."

"Yes, Gabby my love, I know, I'm your love. I'm all yours."

She twisted her eyebrows into a frown and said, just a bit too loud so that probably at least a few people could hear, certainly Wendy and Dawn did, "Does this mean I don't get to watch you jack off cuz I lost?"

Micky laughed and shooshed her with a kiss. He said to her in a low voice "Now, Gabby, behave yourself. You probably don't care right now if anyone hears you say that, but I guarantee you tomorrow you're going to care."

Gabby said "Don't care now. What gives? What's the answer?"

Micky smiled and rubbed noses with her. "I'm a fair man, I'll give you another opportunity to win that bet sometime in the future. And if you're a verrrrry good girl, I must just do it for you for nothing, just out of the goodness of my heart."

Gabby licked her lips and smacked her tongue and said "Yum." Then she lolled her head back on Micky's arm and let him swirl her around the pool some more. She was three sheets to the wind and knew it, so she didn't fight it. "I'm in your hands, Micky. Will you take care of me until I'm with it again?"

"Sure, Gabby, I'll always take care of you."

"Yeah, but I'm s'posed to be taking care of _you_!"

"You're doing a great job of taking care of me. I'm feeling human again. I can feel my heart and my head clearing up and my thoughts aren't so jumbled anymore. Having you to take care of is always something that makes me happy. It gives me a purpose in life. So you just loll your head back and let me swirl you around and then I'm going to bring you into the house and put you down for a nap. Okay?"

"M'kay, Mickster. You do that. No hanky panky if I pass out. That's what Nick would do. No doin' that."

Micky blanched and shivered, having not heard this part of the story before. "He'd touch you when you weren't with it?"

"Mhmm. Yup. He'd get me drunk and passed out and I'm not really sure what all he'd get up to. That's why I keep tellin' you don't knock on my back door. Cuz I'm not sure whether he did, but I'm scared that he did. In fact I'm pretty sure he did. And I didn't like it. There was blood on the sheets. You only bleed from your coochie when you're a virgin and I wasn't no virgin. And my ass hurt back there when I woke up, and I was all torn up. I tell myself maybe he didn't do it cuz if I say he for sure did it, then it's too scary for me to admit and that makes it real and I have to live with it. So, shhhh, maybe he didn't do it. But it don't take no Sherlock Holmes for me to know he did it."

Micky drew in a gasp and clutched at Gabby and said "God, Gabby, that's sick. I promise I won't do that to you."

"I'm not sayin' I won't poke you back there if that's what you want. I know it's different for guys. You've got something back there that women don't have that makes it feel good for you. But girls aren't built that way, you know? I think maybe he had butt sex with a guy and liked it and thought it would feel the same for me, but it didn't. What a fuckin' fool. Or more likely he didn't give a shit what it felt like to me, he just wanted what he wanted. Fuckin' chauvinist pig. Animal. Beast. Rapist. Never tol' no one about that part before. Shhhhh. Keep that under your hat, Mickster. Wendy and Dawn don't know that part."

"I won't tell anyone, Gabby. I'm devastated that that that happened to you, my Gabby. Listen to me, okay? Gabby, I'm only ever going to worship your body and I'll never do anything to you that you don't ask me to do, even beg me for. That's the only way it can ever be between us and it's only ever been that way with us so far, right? That's called consent. You understand me? It's the same with me. I know where you're coming from. I've been on the receiving end of nonconsensual touching now. I know how horrifying it is. You're safe with me."

Gabby's face contorted with confusion, pain and fear. "But what if you smoke weed and get out of hand like Nick did? Or decide to drop acid at the Festival or something? You might lose yourself, forget who you are and the promises you've made to me. What will I do? How will I protect myself?"

"Gabby, I'm not going to do any of that shit. Mike told me how you feel about it, and anyhow, I don't need that shit to feel good when I'm with you. Everything I've done in the past was something I experimented with and it's over and done with now. It was part of my growing up and I've learned what I needed to learn. You're my now and you're my future. I'll never do anything to jeopardize that. Do you trust me? Do you believe me? Are you sober enough to be having this discussion? Because if not, we're going to have it all over again later."

"I do trust you and I do believe you, and yes we ought to have this discussion again later because I've had too much to drink, which probably makes me a hypocrite in your eyes, that I'll drink but I won't drug. But there's just something different about illegal drugs and I don't apologize for how I feel about them. I'm going to be a community leader, Micky, and I'm going to go into public life, and I can't have that as part of my life. It would bring me down. And I've seen the damage those drugs do to whole families and communities and impoverished countries. Hell, there are whole countries over in the Middle East and South and Central America that are dependent on those dumb kids at the Festival for their economy, growing poppies and coca and marijuana and shipping their byproduct over here, then using the proceeds to kill each other in genocidal wars and upend civil society. And I've been down to Tijuana and seen those starving beggar kids selling paper flowers for pennies because there's no industry left in their town because the drug cartels have taken everything over, just so some kids in Palm Springs can get high. I'm not saying our friends can't or shouldn't do what they want. But they're not you. I only care about you and me. You're like a part of me. It's like we breathe the same air. And I don't want to breathe in the poison and moral turpitude that that shit consists of."

"I know, babe. I understand. In the past I never gave it any thought about the wider societal ramifications. I just did what felt good and what everyone else was doing. I get what you're saying. It's not important to me now, and I have nothing to prove or to lose. If you've got a different opinion than mine and your point of view has more integrity than mine, then I'm not going to waste my time standing on my position just so I can say I didn't let anyone change my mind for me. I'm my own person, but I'm part of you now. And I trust your judgment. You know a lot more about some things than I do. Just like you trusted me to go talk to those stalker girls and handle it the way I saw fit. We're a team, Gabby. I'm going to listen to you and hear what you have to say, and I'm never going to do anything to compromise you or making you feel scared or uncomfortable. I wish you'd have said something to me directly, but I can see why you didn't. You didn't want to influence me or act like you were bossing me around. But we're a team now, Gabby. Life partners, like Mike says. So if you've got a concern about something, go ahead and tell me. I'm open to hearing it. Okay?"

"Okay. Ask me about this again before we go to the Festival so we're sure we're on the same page. I'm drunk right now and I don't want to forget that we had this important meeting of the minds. Thank you for reassuring me and for respecting me."

"You got it, babe. Always. Let's go inside and lie down."

"For a nap?"

"Yeah, for a nap."

"Okeedokeeeey, as Mike says."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	41. Chapter 41

Micky gave Gabby a gentle shake and told her everyone was having dinner and asked her if she wanted some.

"Mmmm, yeah, that sounds good. I'm supposed to be asking you that, Micky. How are you feeling?"

"Human again. Like the person I was before George died. Except that something's changed and it will never be the same. He'll always be dead now, and he'll always have died in vain. And it will always be unfair and I'll always be bitter and angry and sad about it."

Gabby sat up and put her arms around Micky's shoulders. 

"I understand that, Micky. I don't disagree. It's almost like marking time in B.C. and A.D. It's a dividing line of sorts. We have those in our lives. Like before you before lose your virginity and after, or maybe before you started shaving and after, or when you moved out of your parents' house and lived on your own for the first time and made your first rent payment. Or like before your dad died and after he was gone. It's like a part of you loses its innocence and you take on a weight, a burden, a fact of life you'd rather not know about."

Micky sighed and let his shoulders fall. "I think I need an outlet for the feelings. When we get back, I'm gonna finish up that motorcycle. It's what George would want me to do. And I'm going to take it out and when I ride it, he'll be with me. He'll see what I see, and he'll feel what I feel."

"That sounds real positive and healthy, Micky. For me, I've got to get my shit together and get a job and then get organizing. There's an anti-war rally that needs planning and that takes time and coordination. I don't know if there's a committee established here yet in L.A. I'm going to contact some of my Berkeley folks and find out what they know and see if any of them want to come down and help me get things up and running. We need to make our voices heard. That presidential speech is just the venue to do it. He may not hear us from where he's standing, but the press will know and the world will hear us and it will get back to him. We'll shame him and we'll shock him and we'll let him know we won't go along quietly with his damn war he's trying to minimize and hide from us and pretend we're winning while more and more of our boys and men die. So that's my plan."

"Rock on, Gabby." Micky raised his fist and pumped it in the air.

They stood up and hugged, then went outside to join the others.

* * *

Tonight's camp fire was mellow and similar to the previous evening. More music, more singing, and more weed. Lynda, another non-partaker, sat next to Gabby and squeezed her hand in solidarity as the joint passed them both by. Davy held his hand out to Lynda and asked her if she'd take a dip in the Jacuzzi with him. She assented and they strolled away from the group.

Once they were settled in to the bubbling water, Davy asked Lynda how she was doing.

She laughed at this utterly banal chat up line from the king of smooth.

"I'm fine, Davy. Glad I was able to make it down here to be with you all and especially to be here to support Micky. I thought he had done a nutter, you know?"

"Well actually, he did."

"Wotcha? Tell me, what happened?"

Davy filled Lynda in about Micky's nightmare and Davy's visit to his bedside to reassure him.

"Wow, Davy, that's heartbreaking for both of you. You must have felt like you whistled past the graveyard, escaping the draft and then hearing Micky recount your death from his dream. Did you? Are you still feeling that way?"

"Yeh, I do feel that way. I'm still pretty shaken up. And ever since we heard about Micky's cousin dying, I also feel guilty as hell for some reason for having the good fortune of escaping his fate. How messed up is that? I worked my ass off to avoid the draft and then as soon as I heard Micky's yowling and crying, I'd have given my right arm to him to make his pain stop, like I'd probably have enlisted right then and there."

"You guys, all of you guys, have a really special bond. More like brothers than friends."

"You got that right. You don't miss much, do you, Lynda?"

"No, I keep my eyes open and I listen and watch and feel and pay attention."

"And what aren't you saying in that sentence that you'd really like to lay on me?"

"Davy, I'm not holding anything back, and I'm not being passive aggressive with you. Like I told you, I've said my peace. You asked me a question about myself and I answered it. This is where we always hit the brick wall. I want you to know who I am, and you always take that as an insult to your masculinity or authority or something. As if me asking you to drop your self-absorption is like asking you to drop your drawers in public. It's not. It's asking you to see me as a person with feelings, characteristics, flaws and assets. Same as I see you. I see all your good and bad points, and I give you a huge discount for the bad points, believe me." She smiled and winked at him.

"Wot, you mean I'm not perfect?" Davy joked. "Lynda, I know I've been a stubborn ass and I still am one. I just don't know how to undo the habits of a lifetime. Nobody ever taught me how to be human. I taught meself everything I know. How to be masculine and charming, how to be brave and fierce and indomitable and loyal and stalwart. But I don't know how to do sensitive and inquisitive and unselfish and deferential and humble. Micky's really good at all that stuff. But look at 'im. He's a tortured mess. I'd say he's ready for the funny farm. He can barely hold 'is shit together right now. I don't want to be that way."

Lynda's expression became stormy and dark. "Davy, how _dare_ you equate trauma with weakness? Micky has been through some traumatic events these last few weeks. He's been sexually assaulted and objectified by a girl who's probably still a minor, and then been stalked by her and her friends who followed him home, watched him have sex with his girlfriend and then haunted them on the beach near his home turf. He lost one of his closest relatives and friends to a barbaric war that none of us can make any sense of, and he nearly lost another one when you got drafted. And if you had gone, his whole world would have crashed down on his head because that would have been the end of the Monkees, too. And on top of all of that, he's also witnessed the attempted sexual assault of his girlfriend at a gig of and was in no position to do anything to stop it or to help her until it was over and then had to help her pick up the pieces of that and be strong for her. Not to mention the fact that I'm not sure if you're aware but Gabby's last boyfriend abused her and she's still trying to get over that, too, and it's got Micky tied up in knots trying to help her through her own trauma and convince her he's a better man than the last man she dated who betrayed her."

Lynda continued to school Davy. "But Micky's strong, too. He's given up a disgusting lifestyle of seducing, fucking and abandoning a new girl every weekend and has formed what I'm predicting is going to be a lifelong bond with a girl who values him and really gets him and whose love he earned in the hardest and humblest way possible. He's made his peace with the girl who groped him and forgiven her even though she didn't deserve it and hopefully talked her into leaving him and Gabby alone. He's only two days removed from learning about his cousin's death and he's already perking up and back to helping Gabby deal with her shit that's still haunting her. He's building a solid, loving, open, communicative, equal relationship with Gabby. They're a team and they support each other. So don't confuse him needing and wanting support with being weak. It's the human condition. We all need somebody. And you know that damn well. You just told me that. You just don't want to do anything about it because you're hung up on some macho image bullshit. Is that what you want? To die the oldest and loneliest macho man in the world? That's pathetic."

"No, Lynda, no, that's not what I want," Davy stammered.

"Then I suggest you spend more time with Micky and observe his way of doing things instead of judging and criticizing him, because from where I'm sitting, he's got a lot more going for him than you do in terms of romance and human relations. You're just about to piss me off to the point where I don't even _want_ to be your friend, and I promised you that I would be. Can't you see that you're like a snake eating itself from the tail up, Davy? You're consuming every bit of good that's left in you and sacrificing it on the altar of superficial pleasure and artificial appearances. God, when are you going to get real? Real about your feelings, real about your relationships, real about what it means to be a person, and real about the people around you? We all value you so much, and you have so much to give. Yet you choose to skate along the surface like a humming bird, just sipping a little bit of nectar from each flower, never stopping long enough to have a substantial meal with any one. 

"When was the last time you had a meaningful conversation with any of the guys? What about Micky? You matter so much to him he had a nightmare about you. What does that tell you about how he feels about you? Yet you have nothing good to say about him. He needs you right now. Spend some time with him. Get to know him better than skin deep. Try to understand what he's feeling and experiencing. Give him more of yourself. Try it out on a guy if you can't do it with a girl. Just build a connection to somebody. Anybody. Then maybe you'll be able to connect with yourself and it will all start to make sense to you."

Davy hung his head down and nodded. He knew Lynda was speaking truth to power. And he had asked for it. "You're on to something there, Lynda. I don't tell you nearly enough, or maybe ever, but you're bloody brilliant and I'm grateful to have you in my life."

Lynda was not subject to flattery, but for once she felt Davy was sincere, so she merely acknowledged his comments with a nod and said "Good. Micky needs you right now. It's a good time for you to change from Pinocchio into a real boy."

* * *

"Do you think the coast is clear?"

It was about two in the morning, and Micky was lying wide awake, listening to Gabby doze.

"Mmmm, Micky, are you serious about collecting on this bet? Can't we just skip it and say we did it?"

"Nope, Gabriella, nope. You are going to be a woman of honor and hand over my winnings."

"Okay. I tell you what you do. You go out there and see if anybody's around. If there's anyone at all out there, the deal's off. And if there's only one person out there, I give you permission to fuck them, whether it's a man or a woman, just let me sleeeeeeep!"

Micky sniggered and started to tickle Gabby to get her blood pumping and ready for her big moment. This was proving less than successful, as she clung to the bedsheets despite her laughter, so he grabbed hold of her waist, slung her over his shoulder and carried her out to the pool. Now she was giggling hard, punchy with sleep deprivation, and Micky had to shush her, lest she blow the gaff and wake somebody up. He eased her down on the ground and asked "Pool or Jacuzzi?"

"It's your winnings you're claiming, my Micky, so you can pick."

Micky stroked his hairy face (he still hadn't shaved with this upcoming event in mind), and said "It's kind of nice in that really warm water, but it's also kind of shallow. I think pool."

They shucked off their clothes and quietly entered the pool so as not to draw any notice to their presence. The pool was located in a central quadrangle surrounded by a group of small houses. Fortunately, everybody had their air conditioning on so there was some white noise to conceal some sounds like splashing, but Gabby was dubious about whether Micky would be able to keep it together enough to avoid shouting down the neighborhood when the ultimate moment arrived. Her failsafe was to dunk his head under water and hopefully not drown him.

Micky was significantly taller than Gabby, and she realized that the mechanics of this endeavor were going to need to be choreographed carefully. Her feet weren't going to be able to touch the ground anyway, but his head was much higher up than hers if his tab A was inserted into her slot B and her head would be submerged under water if he didn't lift her up. Still, she trusted Micky with his clever, quick scientist's mind and decided to just let him figure it all out. He surveyed the landscape, picked up Gabby, and headed for the middle of the pool to test for depth, where he found a place where he was comfortable. Then he moved over to the side so that he could pin Gabby to the wall like a captive butterfly ready for scientific examination.

He lifted her torso out of the water and balanced her on his knee so that he could see her breasts shimmer in the moonlight and watch the water drip from her nipples. He took his hands and scooped water over them again and again and just ogled her, fascinated by this sight. He took one finger and lightly ran his hand over one nipple and then the other as she squirmed and bit her lip, trying not to make a sound. Then he leaned forward and brushed his bristly, scruffy whiskers over her breasts and she gave a sharp intake of breath and pressed herself into his face, loving the sensation of the roughness. His tongue snaked out to grab hold of one nipple and gave a gentle tug and then closed over her left nipple, which at some point he had discovered was more sensitive than her right breast (they both were bewildered by this), and he sucked hard and she began to purr. He let his finger attend to her right nipple, which by now he had learned preferred to be pinched and tugged harder. He took pride and satisfaction at having learned what her body responded to and made her feel maximal pleasure at each place on her body's map.

He was afraid he was going to blow his stack too soon, so overcome was he by the sensuality of this setup, so he decided to move things along. That, and he was mindful that they were at risk of being discovered, though he was more turned on by the danger of that contingency than anything else, and that was also contributing to his sense of physical urgency. He lowered his hand to her coochie to see if she had sufficient lubrication for him to enter her without hurting her. The water complicated things since it would wash away a certain amount of anything that she exuded. He inserted one finger, then two, and was glad to find that she felt like a small furnace down there and there was plenty of slickness to ease the way.

"You ready for me, Gabriella?"

"Yesssss, I'm waiting for you my Micky."

He braced her against the wall and guided her down onto his erection slowly, watching her expression for any sign of discomfort. Her face was a bit contorted and she was panting, but she said "It's okay, keep going. It's just weird and different and a bit less slick. Give it to me, Micky."

He kissed her and asked her to open her eyes and look at him. She did so and he asked "Are you with me?"

"Yes, I'm with you, Micky. I want you inside me. Go."

He continued to enter her, lowering her gently until he was completely sheathed inside her, then he asked her "How do you feel?"

"Weird but good. Full. Filled with you. Wonderful."

"Ready for me to move?"

"Yeah, rock my world, Micky."

So that's what he did. He rocked her gently, and the water lapped the side of the pool with the same gentle rhythm. Then she moaned and encouraged him to go faster and used the kind of cheerleading terminology combined with dirty talk she specialized in that amused and enticed him so much.

"Give it to me, Micky. Go for it. Have at it. Have fun! We're in a pool! This is wild!"

She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed her inner muscles around his penis to egg him on and he groaned and pumped harder. Now he was losing control of the moment and was in a frenzy. He knew this wasn't about her pleasure since her clitoris was making no real contact with his body at all. And he needed both hands to hold her up. She had given him the go ahead to be completely selfish and to just enjoy himself, so that's what he did. He fucked her and made love to her and ravished her and partook of her. It was a game and an act of love and a reward and collecting on a bet and a sacred act and two friends enjoying an adventure and all sorts of things at once. It was wonderful and they were enjoying the moment to its utmost. 

Micky was starting to thrust really fast and she was bracing herself against the pool's edge to give him a steady target to aim for. She warned him "Micky, when the time comes, you've got to keep quiet. Kiss me and you can shout in my mouth. Okay?"

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay." He chanted it faster and faster, with an increasingly desperate tone.

He lunged for her and covered her mouth with his and thrust his tongue down her throat and made a guttural sound like someone was strangling him. She almost wanted to laugh but she knew she needed to keep it together to avoid discovery. She loved how emotional and vocal he got when he came. It was evidence of how much this act meant to him, and how big a personality he had. It was the very essence of his tutti frutti-ness. She couldn't believe she ever shied away from Micky because of his flamboyance and over the top demeanor. Now she knew she'd never be able to live without that in her life. Everything else would be pale grey in comparison. Oh, how she loved this man.

Gabby emerged from her contemplation of Micky's sexual vocalization style realizing that it made perfect sense considering he was a singer, and asked him "How do you feel, Micky?"

"Oooohhhh, I'm not sure I can describe it. I feel like I'm made of water, like I'm part of the water in the pool. I sure don't need that weed to get really out there. I just need some pool sex with you, Gabby. That blew my mind. How do you feel?"

"I feel wonderful and happy to have paid off my debt to you. Now you owe me an orgasm. What are you going to do about it?"

"Jeez, you're such a slave driver."

"Yeah, I know. I'll bet you wish we women had never discovered our clits, right?"

"Wrong. I love me a woman who knows where her love button is and knows what to do with it. In fact, I know exactly what we're going to do about your needs. Come with me, my love."

"That's the whole problem. I _couldn't_ come with you!" she joked.

"Yeah, I knew it when it was happening. But you gave me your blessing so I knew you didn't mind."

"Of course I didn't. You and I are always on the same page when it comes to that. Like I said, I don't really want to know the details of how you became so competent, but I'm mighty grateful for the results. You definitely know your way around a woman's body and you know how things function and what works and what doesn't. I swear some guys think if they just stick their dick in a woman's hole the woman's going to gush out a giant orgasm. Like duh, that's not where the action's at, dude! There was a guy in college who chased me the whole school year and I kept turning him down. I finally got lonely one night and let him have at me and he ruined a perfectly good orgasm by just repeatedly poking my vagina like he was ringing a doorbell. I was getting the tingles and kept trying to move his hand to the right place but he ignored me and kept going back to my hole and pile driving me. He was just stuck in his predetermined ideas. The moment passed and I got frustrated. Needless to say that was the last time I let him get at my goodies!"

Micky laughed. He appreciated being given access to the woman's point of view. It was a privileged and secret world that not many men got admission to.

They scrambled out of the pool and quickly pulled their clothes back on, then dashed back into the house.

They toweled off and got warmed up. Micky had a mischievous look on his face and Gabby had a wary look on hers. "What are you up to Dolenz?"

"I'm up to giving you an orgasm and also giving you a version of the part of the wager you lost out on because you suck at backgammon."

"Hey! That's not fair! Trash talking is not the way to my heart, never mind the way into my pants!"

"Well, you wanted to see me jack off, but you're the one in need of an orgasm, so I think I should watch _you_ jack off."

"What? Are you shitting me? How do you get to that calculation? You may be an evil scientific genius, but I know when I'm being swindled."

"Okay, how about this? You get yourself started and I'll help you out?"

"Hmm, well, that sounds a little more promising."

"Come on. I dare you."

"What are we, sixteen, Micky?"

"Yeah, we're sixteen, and we're in your bedroom in Palos Verdes," he was speaking in his most sensual, seductive voice, setting the scene in her mind, "and your parents are asleep down the hall and I've just crawled in your window..." He started to kiss her neck and bite her earlobe and coax her to take her clothes off. 

She smiled a wicked grin and said "In that case, we both have to get naked. That's how it would go back then."

They both removed their clothes and Micky sat at the foot of the bed with his eyes gleaming and just waited and watched for Gabby to do something. She decided to go ahead and make herself comfortable and grabbed a pillow and propped it up behind her back and laid back. She sighed and closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Then she began to move her right fingers over her left breast. She tweaked her nipple and let the dry skin swipe over the areola and raise little bumps over the pink skin. She did the same with her right breast, then to both at the same time, making little circles that broadened out to the surface of the whole breast. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and moistened her fingertips, then returned to the surface of her nipples, dragging her fingers over the nipples more slowly and enjoying the friction the moisture caused. She added some pinching and tugging and began to moan. 

Then she did something that absolutely amazed Micky. She sat up and pulled her breast up to her own mouth, snaked her tongue out and reached her nipple and licked it. Her tongue just reached it. She raised her eyes to Micky and giggled. Then she did the same thing to her other breast. 

"That's my party piece. That's also not on my resume, along with my ability to run a cotton candy machine."

She laid back on the pillow again and continued to work over her breasts with her left hand as her right hand strayed down her belly and then combed through the triangle of hair between her thighs. She lightly dipped into her hole to draw some of the fluids that were dripping from her and brought them up to her clitoris, then spread the liquid all over the hood and the inner lips surrounding it. Then she moved down and gathered more and repeated the process. Then she began to gently tickle that area, then press a bit harder, then grind. Then she stopped and peeled back the fold of skin that protected the most sensitive nub and applied gentle pressure and swiped at it, then went back to what she had been doing, then rotated through the whole process again, spending progressively more time directly on the gland until her breathing began to speed up. 

Micky was sitting mesmerized, still as a statue, just watching all of this unfold before him, not moving a muscle. Now he decided to act. He knew one thing was missing. Either Gabby didn't know how to find her G-spot with her own fingers, or maybe she couldn't reach it. He decided to help her figure that part of the puzzle out.

He took her hand and moved it to her vagina and inserted her finger and his inside it. He placed it right on the spot where the slightly rough mound just behind her pubic bone was and asked her "Can you feel that?"

"Yes!"

He moved their fingers together over it, pressing on it and massaging it. Gabby gasped and moaned. Very quickly she began to pant and when she increased the pressure on her clitoris, suddenly she was coming and writhing and heaving.

"Wow, Micky. You found that place again. I'm not sure I can get there on my own. I think my fingers might be too short. Maybe I need help."

"What do you mean, like a back scratcher?"

"No, you idiot! Like a vibrator!"

"Oh, well, that'll work too. Whatever gets you through the night. Can I help you use it?"

"Definitely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	42. Chapter 42

Everyone noticed that Micky seemed to have made a remarkable recovery as he bounded out of the bedroom, then plopped on a chair at the breakfast table, lunged for the cereal box and immediately started engaging with everyone. He wasn't cracking jokes, but he was speaking and back out of his shell, and one and all knew that he must have collected on his winnings from the backgammon tournament in some sort of spectacular fashion. Wendy vowed to get the dirt from Gabby ASAP.

She quickly motored to Gabby's bathroom, where she was still primping, and closed the door. 

"Okay, Levitt. Where's our zombie Micky and what have you done with him?"

Gabby grinned and said "We used an ancient, healing Ayurvedic hydrotherapy. 

Wendy's eyes widened and the light of comprehension dawned within them.

"You fucked in the pool?"

Gabby returned her gaze to the mirror, pursed her lips, smoothed her bangs and said serenely "Wendy, we're best friends, but Micky and I have promised to keep our sex lives private. So you did not hear that from me. K?" Then she transferred her gaze back to Wendy's through the mirror and gave her a small wink.

Since Micky was now among the living again, Wendy suggested they take a trip outside their protective bubble and see one of Palms Springs' most spectacular sights. An aerial tram had recently been built to travel from the desert floor to the top of the magnificent, towering mountains the city was nestled against. Even though it was May and the temperature at the pool was close to a hundred degrees, the weather at the top of the mountains was usually forty or more degrees cooler, and very often there was still unmelted snow on the ground or even snow still falling even at this point in the spring.

Everyone was excited to check out the new tram and see what the view from the top of the mountain looked like. That is, everyone but Mike. Mike had already proved that day at the cliffs of Palos Verdes that he had no head for heights, and he was freaking out at the possibility of being trapped in a tram dangling from a cable over a chasm hundreds of feet above the ground. There were several options considered and discarded to coax Mike out of his refusal to come along. The most obvious option was to get Mike high or drunk to loosen his inhibitions, but he felt that even in an intoxicated state, he would not be able to overcome his terror, plus what was the point of going sightseeing at the top of a mountain if you're so blitzed out of your mind that you're not going to be able to process what you're seeing? Peter suggested putting a bag over Mike's head, but Mike said he preferred not to be asphyxiated in the cause of being able to join the group. He concluded that he ought to just stay behind and let everyone else enjoy themselves. Wendy absolutely would not countenance this and assumed her maverick pose, hands on hips and feet firmly planted three feet apart.

"Mike, you are going to go on this goddamned tram and I am going to take care of you! You are my life partner and you are going to trust me! Now get your ass in the Monkeemobile and let Peter do the driving since you've worked yourself up into such a state. Now git!" She was enjoying imitating his Texas slang and getting a little aggressive with her long tall drink of charged water. Mike felt a little tingle in his nether regions as well, never having seen Wendy in full-on take-charge mode, other than the time she told him she was going to the Festival whether he liked it or not, and that was not a pleasant memory for him. This Wendy was one who was truly in love with him and he knew she was going to take care of him and that he could trust her, so he just shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the back seat of the car.

Wendy told Davy and Lynda to ride along with Micky and Gabby and to follow them to the tram. A few other of their new friends from the condo complex also followed along in their vehicles and they formed a caravan to the edge of the mountains. As soon as Peter stepped on the gas, Wendy told Dawn "Eyes front, Missy. The scenery is breathtaking and you're gonna love it!" Then she winked and Dawn smirked and turned to face the radio, fiddling with it.

Wendy, quick as a flash, had Mike's jeans unbuttoned and was scooting them down his hips before he knew what was happening. She leaned over his lap and started suctioning his member until she was satisfied with the response. Mike was emitting strangled gurgling sounds which Dawn strove to ignore or at least not burst out laughing at, so she turned the radio up louder and remarked to Peter "Oooh, Pete, I just love this new song! Don't you dig it?"

As soon as was possible, Wendy flipped up her skirt, under which she was conveniently wearing nothing, and climbed up on Mike's lap. She threw her arms around his neck and began to kiss him fiercely. Now he was getting into the spirit of the thing, and he helped her maneuver herself onto his dick which was now fully at attention. She wrapped her legs around him and began to thrust and rock. Then she realized that Mike had taken over and was moving her in a different direction, at an angle that was better and more aerodynamically appropriate for her as well. She suddenly realized that he was not just in this for himself. He wanted her to get something out of this as well. Gone was the frightened Mike and hello there, Mike the magnificent lover she knew and loved. The situation changed from one of desperation on Wendy's part to lull Mike into a state of catatonic bliss into a more mutual exchange. She speculated that maybe it also helped Mike to get the tram ride off his mind by taking control of the situation, which was his usual status quo and pretty much his bliss point under any circumstances. So she let him take over and cooed and whispered encouragement in his ear. By the time they reached their destination, both Michael and Wendy had had mind-blowing orgasms and were flushed and lightheaded, and Mike almost forgot where the car was headed in the first place. 

Mike staggered a bit as he exited the Monkeemobile and Wendy had to remind him to tuck his shirt back in. This was too much for Dawn and she had to cover up her laughter with a choking cough. Wendy shot her a nasty glance that melted into a sheepish grin. Mike was really out of it and had a glassy, spaced out expression on his face and kept shuddering and shaking his shoulders like tremors were still wracking his body. Wendy had a smug, satisfied look on her face and was only concerned that when she got to the top of the mountain, the absence of underwear was going to make things rather chilly, so she had tossed a pair of panties into her bag in the event that she could find a way to discretely slip them on somewhere. Maybe they had bathrooms up there, she hoped.

The Monkees, their girlfriends and their new friends commandeered an entire tram car to themselves, and Wendy decided to take no chances that Mike's fears might return. She seated him on a bench at the front of the tram, where he'd see virtually none of the precipitous drop below them, and sat upon his lap facing him with her legs wrapped around his waist. She massaged his penis through the fabric of his jeans while she kissed him deeply with tongue all the way up the mountain. He made it to the top just fine.

At the top of the mountain they exited and Mike floated a few inches above the ground. The Monkees and gals other than Dawn were amazed at Mike's state of contentment and were all trying to figure out how Wendy managed it. Gabby had a pretty damn good idea how, but would wait for a discreet moment to confirm her suspicions.

* * *

The group collected pamphlets and maps at the visitor's center and had a look at the options for activities. Mt. San Jacinto State Park was at the top of the mountain and open to the public, with dozens of miles of hiking trails and even opportunities for camping for those who came prepared. With a choice of guided and self-guided nature walks, the group decided to just ramble on their own, following the trails and markers laid out by the rangers. 

They were pleased to see that there was some snow on the ground. A few present admitted it was their first encounter with snow, which absolutely stunned Peter, who had grown up in the East and more particularly New England. Micky, being a California boy and raised strictly in Los Angeles, had never actually touched snow. He marveled at its consistency and was dying to get up a good old fashioned snowball fight. Sides were chosen and snow was scooped up, assembled into missiles and accumulated. 

Dodging between trees and rocks, everyone took turns flinging their ammunition at each other in a dodgeball type of competition. If you got hit, you were out. Unfortunately for Wendy, she hadn't remembered to find a place to slip on the panties she had been carrying around in her bag, and she got a butt cheek full of snowball. It stung and dripped and made her furious, particularly when she noticed that it was Michael who had thrown it. This was not only a case of friendly fire, but he knew damn well there was nothing underneath there to protect her nethers from a good chill.

"Nesmith, you're on your own getting back down the mountain!" she stormed at him.

"Awww, honey, you wouldn't abandon me now, wouldja? I mean, I'd have to find someone else to help me get off – I mean get off the mountain – and you know, that might leave ya feelin' awful put out..."

Wendy's brows furrowed and she steamed and folded her arms in frustration. He had her right where he wanted her, in her most insecure, vulnerable spot, and he was loving it. She said "Just you wait until I get you back at sea level. There's gonna be hell to pay!"

He ambled over to her and ran his big, calloused hand underneath her now moist skirt and over her cold bum. "Here, let me help ya warm that up."

Her resistance began to crumble and she melted into a big puddle of goo, murmuring something about finding someplace to dry off and get warm and maybe find some privacy and some hot chocolate.

* * *

Two by two, everyone else began to meander around, checking out the flora and magnificent views and continue to play with the wondrous snow. Micky was now determined to try to make a snowman, but there really wasn't enough snow to accomplish that, so he ended up with only two sad balls instead of the requisite three to make the bottom, torso and head. Gabby decided they should make snow testicles instead and began to sweep up a line of snow into the shape of a penis to complete their work of art. Lynda spotted these shenanigans and dragged Davy over to lend a hand.

"Meat and two veg..." commented Davy.

"What?" Micky inquired, puzzled by the non sequitur.

"That's British slang for what you're making. 'Cock and balls' you Yanks would say."

"Or twig and berries, todger, willy, dangly bits, John Thomas, knob, undercarriage, plonker," Lynda chipped in.

Now three pairs of eyes as big as saucers flew to Lynda and they all burst out laughing. This slim, ladylike English lass had a delicate exterior, but she could be just as saucy and tough as nails as any of the American Monkees' girlfriends, yet it still came as a surprise and caught them off guard. She seemed pleased with herself and grabbed a stick to put the finishing touches on the penis, boring a hole into the tip and carving the mushroom cap head just so. 

"Voilà! A masterpiece!" She dropped the stick and strolled ahead up the path, leaving Davy bewildered and awestruck. Once again he had underestimated his girl, or well, not his girl anymore, but his friend, Lynda.

Gabby ran to catch up with Lynda and threw her arm around her. They wandered away to have a good chat, leaving Micky and Davy on their own. Davy decided to take Lynda's advice and reach out to Micky to try to connect with him. 

"Micky, how are you feeling today about things, you know, with George's death and me squeaking by me physical and having a nightmare about it and all?"

Micky shrugged his shoulders and admitted "Well, I feel guilty that I was just having a good time for those few minutes with the snow, that I laughed at Lynda's joke, that I have a girl who I can hug and kiss, and George is lying somewhere probably still on foreign soil and he can't do any of that."

"Yeah, I know. It's kind of the same for me. When I heard about George's passing, I felt so damned guilty, though obviously he didn't mean to me what he does to you. But just the fact of it, knowing that there are guys over there getting mowed down and guys over here who aren't, and that it's not fair and it's not right and we can't seem to do anything to stop it."

Micky gazed over towards Gabby and said "What if we _could_ do something about it?"

Davy cocked his head and asked "What do you mean?"

"Well, Gabby says she's going to be helping organize an anti-war protest for when the President is in town next month giving a speech. What if we helped her out? What if we got involved in the anti-war movement ourselves? What if we used our music in a more constructive way to help raise consciousness about the war? I've been thinking about it and I've got the words of a song rattling around in my head. I could use some help on it, though. I don't want to ask Mike or Peter, though. I wanted this to be mine alone, but now I realize that you've gone through something similarly awful. What if we wrote it together and even set it to music to the best of our ability before we handed it over to the 'real musicians' in the group?" He used quotation fingers to connote the sarcasm in his reference to Peter and Mike usually being the only members of the Monkees regarded as having actual musical talent.

Davy gazed at Micky and blinked back a tear. He felt honored beyond measure that Micky would admit him so deeply into his private sanctuary of trying to heal his pain. "Yeah, Mick, I'd love to be a part of that. What's the song about?"

"It's about a guy about to leave for Vietnam, and he's writing to his girl to let her know he wants to see her one more time before he leaves."

Davy held out his hand to Micky and said "Let's do it."

Micky took Davy's hand and pulled him in for a hug. Davy hugged him back, grateful for Micky's ability to be more emotive and open with his affection. He whimsically decided that his new mantra should "Monkee see, Monkee do," and that he should try to be more like Micky, as Lynda had advised him.

* * *

Peter and Dawn had wandered away from everyone else and were walking on their own down a path that someone had thoughtfully placed runes along, which are stacks of carefully balanced towers of rocks composed to look artistic or even spiritually powerful and magical. 

As they paused to look at one, Peter casually asked Dawn "Dawn, do you think our babies will have blonde hair, too?"

Dawn hesitated for a moment to check with her internal audio recorder and replay what she had heard to make sure she had it right what Peter had just uttered. She still wasn't sure she could trust her own ears, so she asked "What did you just say, Peter?"

"I asked if our babies will have blonde hair. I mean, I've got family members whose hair is brown and my own is kind of dirty blonde, not exactly true blonde, and yours is strawberry blonde, not totally blonde either but a little red. But you know, blonde genes are recessive and usually two blonde people who get together and have kids end up with the same color hair, so it seems most likely our kids will have blonde hair."

Dawn took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. She turned to Peter and spoke quietly and gently, "Peter, have you skipped a groove or something? We're not married. We're not even engaged! We haven't talked about any of this. We've been dating for a bit more than a month. Where is your head at? Because I'm way behind you and I don't know where you're coming from. Catch me up."

Peter looked at her like she was a small child whose vocabulary just wasn't big enough to comprehend the concepts he was laying down for her, so he tried to simplify for her. 

"I love you, Dawn, and I want to have babies with you. I don't insist on marriage if you're not into it, though I myself think that would be the ultimate and I personally would rather we get married. But you know, I'm down with women's lib and all that. I love you and I want to be with you forever, so naturally I'm thinking about children. Oh, wait, I guess maybe as an independent woman you might not want to have kids. Maybe I should give you a second to think about that, right?"

"Peter, a second? To think about having children? To think about what you just laid on me? You've never said anything about any of this. _We've_ never talked about any of this. I'm just kind of shocked. When were you planning on asking me to marry you, in the delivery room?" Now she started to laugh at the absurdity of the way Peter's mind worked. He was such a simple, sensual, innocent person. He saw what he wanted and went for it. He didn't bother with hangups or social conventions or frankly even much dialogue. He just felt and did things. She remembered back to his off-handed way of mentioning that he loved her.

"Oh, I see what you're saying. You're saying I did things out of order. Hmm, I guess you're right. I just didn't really see the need for all of that. I thought you knew how I felt and were on the same wavelength with me. You do love me, don't you Dawn?"

"Sure I do, Peter."

"And do you want to be with me?

"Of course I do."

"Forever?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking pretty much along those lines..." Dawn admitted.

"And do you want to have children someday?" Pete asked simply.

"Yeah, I've always wanted to be a mom."

"And do you think there's someone other than me you'd want to have kids with?"

"No, Pete, I wouldn't plan on being with you forever but having kids with someone else. That wouldn't really make sense, would it?"

"No, of course not. So why is this so complicated for you?"

Dawn stood there with her mouth open and not a thing to say. Not a single thing.

Peter bent down, kneeled and examined one of the runes piled up precariously on the ground. He removed the top most stone from it, took Dawn's hand in his, and looked her in the eyes with a look of serenity, peace and deep love.

"Dawn, will you spend the rest of your life with me, loving me only, and be the mother of my children, with or without marriage?" Then he opened her palm and placed the stone in her hand and waited for her answer.

Dawn looked from Peter's face to the stone and back again at him. It all seemed very clear and simple there, among the runes in the forest on top of that mountain. Peter had stripped everything down to its essence and delivered to her his love, fidelity and commitment in a simple and spontaneous ceremony. What more could she ask for?

"Yes, Peter, I will. And I prefer marriage, too."

Peter stood now and said "Good. Then that's settled." He surrounded her now with his arms and lips and made her his fiancée. Whatever complications or unanswered questions lay ahead, there was one fundamental truth they both acknowledged. They were lovers for life and wanted to be a family. 

* * *

Everyone re-assembled back at the tram at their pre-planned time and piled into the cable car to descend back to the desert floor. This time, Mike was chomping at the bit and bounded into the car dangling from the cable first, choosing a seat that he deemed had optimal privacy and waited for Wendy to climb aboard his lap. She strutted into the car with a cocky look of self-satisfaction, knowing that she had tamed her man and had him wrapped around her little finger, even if he did threaten to let someone else give him aid and comfort on the way down. She knew he was only going to be satisfied with the kind of lovin' she could provide and that made her feel proud and cherished.

Dawn and Peter floated into the tram car distractedly, whispering quietly to each other and kissing almost continuously all the way down the mountain. Gabby noticed something was different between them and added that item to her list of queries and investigations, along with the mystery of how Wendy got Mike to make his peace with the aerial tram. Davy was whispering to Lynda about something solemnly and she broke into a smile and gave him a sincere hug, and Gabby duly added that to her nosey parker list. Finally, she came to her senses and realized she had Micky's well-being to attend to and reached for his hair and began to stroke it and twist her fingers around his curls. He leaned in to her touch and sighed. He nuzzled her cheek and said "You're my everything." Gabby smiled at him and responded "And you're my one and only."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	43. Chapter 43

It was the final night at the condo, so everyone – meaning the Monkees, girlfriends and their new friends – decided to go all out and pool their resources and have a grand fiesta. Three barbecue grills were procured from various houses and set ablaze, the supermarket was raided for prepared salads and side dishes so that no one would get stuck washing dishes, and a gigantic beer keg and pump was delivered from the local liquor store. No one wanted to have a hangover while driving back home the next morning, or performing and attending the gig the next night, so beer was the safest choice. Also, a moratorium on any sort of drugs was set by den mother Nesmith, who wanted everyone in fit condition the next day, as he was concerned that they hadn't practiced at all that week. 

Addressing the issue of their musical rustiness, the Monkees decided to perform a modified version of a concert for their friends to just brush up on their tunes and get into the groove a little bit. They didn't have their full complement of instruments, but they had Michael's guitar, Pete's bass, a bongo drum set for Micky, and Davy improvised percussion instruments with household items like jars he filled with dried beans and stones. In order not to annoy the older folks in the complex or attract the cops, Wendy and Lynda went to each condominium house in the complex and made sure to alert the owners and invite them to the mini-concert, assuring them that it would be brief and end at a reasonable hour. Wendy's face was familiar to them because she had grown up visiting the complex all her life, and she let Lynda do the talking with her genteel British accent to smooth the way.

While the guys were busy watching over the grills (Gabby asked herself for not the first time why it was that men were always the one to man the barbecue and what it was about fire that so mesmerized them), the girls snuck off to Wendy's master bedroom so that they could do a massive information swap. For once, Gabby didn't have anything she could (or would) contribute. Wendy spilled her secret method to mellowing Mike out enough to ride the tram, adding in the details about what happened on the actual ride, which even Dawn didn't know. Gabby was very impressed with Mike's thoughtful approach to car sex and gave him props for taking care of Wendy despite being in such a mental fog. 

"Chivalry ain't dead," Gabby observed.

"Well, he is from the south, you know," Wendy reminded her proudly. "He's also verrrry serious about this partners _shtick_. It's all for one and one for all in his book."

"Yeah, Micky, too," Gabby revealed as discreetly as possible. "What about you, Dawn? How's Pete when it comes to reciprocation in the sack?"

Dawn was staring off into space a bit and had to be prodded and the question repeated before she answered.

"Oh, he's better than reciprocating. He's usually all about me. We do the sexual fantasy thing, but most of his fantasies are all about what he wants to do to me. What he gets off on the most is seeing me get off. Plus, he's like a windup toy with no 'off' switch, so when I'm good and satisfied, I can spend the rest of the time attending to his needs until I'm ready to drop and he'd still be raring to go. So he's very considerate about not wearing me out, especially after that one time when I ended up soaking in the tub on an hourly basis for a couple of days."

Lynda looked at Dawn and said "What's up with you, lass? You've got a strange, far off look in your eye. I haven't know you as long as the other girls, but I think there's something on your mind that you're not sharing with us. Want to drop a veil or two?"

Wendy and Gabby's eyes were now riveted on Dawn and she again came to like she had been a long way away. 

Gabby became the inquisitor "Dawn, did you and Pete do those 'shrooms again up there on the mountain? Mike's gonna kill Pete if you guys are still high."

Dawn shook her head and held out her hands "No, no, nothing like that. I'm high on life, that's all! I'm high on life and love and Peter and the future."

All three other girls gawked and variously became slack jawed, seriously concerned, or happy, depending on whether you were Wendy, Gabby or Lynda.

Lynda spoke first. "Dawn, did he pop the question?

"Well, yeah, but in the strangest way. He didn't actually ask me to marry him at first. He sort of asked me to have his babies. Or actually he assumed we were going to have babies and just started discussing what color hair they'd have as if we had already had the discussion and planned it all out. It was like reading a novel and skipping a whole bunch of chapters, or going to a movie and having to pee and running out to use the ladies room and when you come back, the two lovers are now married and have kids and you didn't even get to see the proposal or the wedding."

Gabby inquired "So what was your reaction to his initial conversational gambit? Did you just go along and say yeah, I think our babies will look like X and blah, blah, blah?"

Dawn frowned at Gabby and said "Give me credit, woman! I reacted just like you would. I told him I thought he had skipped a groove! I said how can you be talking about this stuff when we aren't even engaged and we've only been dating for such a short time, and I put up all the logical road blocks to why he was talking nonsense."

Gabby sighed, relieved. "Oh, so you're not engaged then..."

Dawn shook her head and said "No, I AM engaged. Peter listened to me and asked me a series of logical questions whose answers all led to the conclusion that I love him, I want to be with him the rest of my life, I want to have babies, and if I want to be with him the rest of my life, then he's the one whose babies I want to have. He didn't insist on marriage, but he said he preferred it, and then he proposed to me and asked me to have babies with him with or without marriage and I said yes I would, with marriage."

Wendy flung her arms around Dawn and cried "Congratulations, Dawn! That's wonderful! Now go kiss your groom for the last time because Mike's gonna murder him tonight when he hears this remarkable tale."

Gabby and Lynda started to giggle and nod their heads and Dawn suddenly became very still and horrified at the suggestion that anyone would harm her Sweet Pete.

"Nobody's going to murder anyone! What do you take me for, a fool? We've just got to keep this quiet so Mike doesn't find out about it, right?" Dawn looked from one girl to the next to the next, but all she received back was pitying and dubious expressions and heads shaking in the negative. "Okay, so maybe that's not a good plan. What do you suggest then?"

Wendy stepped up to the plate, figuring she knew Mike the best of them all and authoritatively stated her game plan. "Here's what you've got to do, Dawn. You've got to tell all the boys together, so that Mike doesn't get to dominate the proceedings. In fact, you should make an announcement tonight when all those strangers are around so that he won't make a big stink about it in front of them. Then you'll coach Pete to immediately say 'Of course, we believe in long engagements and we won't be doing anything until the Monkees get our careers off the ground' or something like that. And neither of you will even mention the word _babies_ in Mike's hearing. Not one _peep_ about babies. Then I will take on Papa Bear Nesmith tonight when we go to bed and talk him down off the ledge and hopefully by tomorrow morning he'll have this all in perspective. I'm even willing to sacrifice my own happiness and talk about my own future commitment with him if it helps you out, Dawn."

Dawn threw her arms around Wendy and said "Wow, Wendy, that's really going the extra mile. Thanks!"

Gabby was concerned about Wendy manipulating Mike. "Wendy, don't you go leading Mike down the garden path if you're not really serious about committing to him! Of course it's sisters before misters, but that's taking it too far."

Wendy glowered at Gabby and said "Gabby, I was being sarcastic. I really do want to talk to Mike about commitment, but I've been a chicken shit about bringing up the topic. So if it comes up organically because of Dawn, that's as good a time to get into it as any. I'm not about to go hurting Mike! Give me some credit for having grown up a bit. I think the only one of us original three – pardon me, Lynda, for excluding you from this part of the debate – who is shying away from commitment is you! You've got Micky talking about forevers with you and wanting to shack up with you because he knows you don't want to talk about kids or marriage, and you can barely stand talking about going to the Festival with him in a month! You've got some healing to do, I know. But you've got some serious commitment issues and while I've been working on mine with Mike, you've been doing fuck-all about yours, as far as I can see. So don't lecture me about leading Mike on. You don't know a damn thing about what goes on with me and Mike when we're alone and the lights are out."

Wendy stood up and stomped out of the room, slamming the door. The other girls looked shocked and sympathetically at Gabby and began to talk at the same time.

"She didn't mean to..."

"Don't listen to that bullshit, Gabby, she..."

Gabby held up her hand and said "No, you know what, she's pretty close to the truth. She's got a point. Both about how I haven't given her credit for her own growth, and for the growing I need to do myself." Gabby got up from the bed and wandered out of the room.

* * *

Dinner was underway and everyone had a drink in their hand. Dawn had had a chance to pull Pete aside and tell him the game plan, and the moment had arrived for them to make their announcement. Wendy borrowed Micky's bongos and hammered out a beat to get everyone's attention and hollered for quiet. 

Pete cleared his throat and said "I'd like to share some news with everyone. Today, on top of the mountain, in a magical forest in the presence of spiritual runes, Dawn and I committed our love for all time to each other. We're not rushing into anything because of our life circumstances right now, but we know where we're headed and we want to make that journey together, and we made it official today. We're engaged to be married." They kissed and hugged each other, then smiled at each other and everyone else.

A great whoop of congratulations and awwwwws and yays and yahoos went up, and while there were stunned faces, there were mostly smiles. As expected, Mike had a look of concern that he tried to suppress with Wendy standing next to him whispering into his ear "If you don't put a smile on your face and congratulate both of them sincerely right now, Mike, you will regret it for the rest of your life, so please trust me on this and we'll talk about it later."

The Monkees all thronged around Peter and Dawn and hugged them, and the girls, for whom this was not new news, hugged Peter and congratulated him, and grinned at Dawn. The new friends also congratulated them and began to ask the usual questions about when's the date and what kind of wedding were they planning and all that sort of uncomfortable territory that the happy couple wanted to avoid. Their standard answer was "We haven't given it a thought!"

The Monkees performed a short set of songs they planned to play the following night, and the audience was really impressed at their professionalism and entertained by their music. They had not been aware that they were in the presence of a group of pro musicians and were bowled over by their sound. The guys were forced to take three encores and this was a gratifying reception for them all, particularly as they felt very rusty and out of touch since it had been so long since the last time they had performed their own music together. The older folks were particularly complimentary and asked the guys for their information. They made some connections for potential gigs at high class events these wealthy condo owners frequented, which very much pleased Mike, who acted as their business manager and booker. This put him in a very chipper mood and compensated for the anger and worry that was eating away at his stomach's lining after hearing of Peter and Dawn's engagement.

After the formal concert was over, the guys consented to hang out and play a few more numbers for everyone to sing along to like they had on the previous nights, and a more mellow atmosphere descended on the group. They decided to call it an early night, and by ten p.m. the food and other remnants of the party had been cleared away and people began drifting back to their condos and saying goodnight. Handshakes, hugs and contact information was exchanged and everyone retired for the night. 

At Wendy's house, there was a sense of anticipation and suspense hanging in the air. Would Mike or one of the other guys have something to say about the engagement that would set off an argument, or would there be an uneasy peace until their girls could talk them around to accepting the situation with good grace? Fortunately, everyone behaved themselves and peace reigned and goodnights were said and bedroom doors were closed without incident.

Wendy and Mike settled into their king sized bed, which Mike very much appreciated as it was one of the rare times he had ever stayed in a bed away from home where his feet didn't protrude over the edge of the bed, and she said "Okay, Mike, now tell me what you've got going through our mind. Let it all out, I want to hear it."

Mike inhaled deeply and exhaled it all out again, trying to gain command of his emotions so that he didn't dump his negativity all over Wendy. "Wendy, honey, I'm worried. It's not that I don't think Peter and Dawn aren't exactly right for each other. They belong together – that's as clear as the nose on mah face. It's just a question of timin' and practicality. I'm afraid they're jumpin' the gun. You know as well as I do that none of us fellas can support a wife or a family right now. We can afford to make our rent every month now, which we didn't use to, and we've got a bit of a cushion for a regular groceries run, which we also didn't use to. We can even afford a few nice things, which is a real benefit, but not somethin' we should take for granted because it could all disappear at any moment. In fact, even bein' able to pay the rent on time could disappear if we were to lose our contract at Cornwall's and can't come up with another in a space of a few months. We don't have much in savin's. We're not just gettin' by, but we're not rollin' in clover either. 

"Now we have a better reputation than we used to have, and we're better known, and we have more opportunities than we use to have, and it's easier for us to get jobs, and we can afford to be pickier about where we play and how often we play. And we're hopin' that when we go to the Festival, we might even break through and make some contacts that might lead to a recordin' contract or a tourin' gig. So that's where we stand. I'm tellin' you all that not just to explain why I feel concerned about Pete and Dawn, but to tell ya why I haven't asked ya to marry me yet."

Wendy beamed at Mike and said "Thank you, Mike, for sharing that with me, especially for the last thing you just said. I appreciate you letting me in on all that private, personal financial information, and for letting me know that you're really serious about me. I wanted to talk about that with you anyway tonight. I'm really serious about you, too, and I wanted you to know that. I figured this thing that went down with Dawn and Peter would be a good reason to bring it up. I'm not proposing to you either, but I do want you to know that I've been thinking about us a lot, and I also understand that we're not where we need to be with our careers and our lives and our financials, but I don't want to be with anybody else. I want my future to be with you. It's you and nobody else. 

"And I think Peter and Dawn realize that, too. They just are more open and free-spirited than we are and Dawn says that's just how Peter's mind works. He just didn't see any reason for not going ahead and getting it out in the open. So I think we ought to let them be who they are. Let them be those free spirits who want to think big and let it all hang out, without hassling them about the details and the financials. Dawn's a practical girl and she'll keep Peter's feet on the ground. Of course when he asked her the question she was taken by surprise and thought it was nutty and brought all this stuff up. She knows the score. She's got a clue, even if she doesn't know what his bank statement says, any more than I knew what yours says until you just told me. So I don't think you should worry about it.

"And even if they do go off on a tangent and do something you think is unwise, it's still their lives, you know? They're their own people. We can't stop them from jumping the gun. Peter is committed to the group, to the band, and he always has been. But if he figures out a way to make it work with Dawn and stay in the Monkees and not let it affect the band, then let him do it. Don't harsh his mellow. Don't worry about it. Dawn will absolutely not bring down this band. She's not that kind of girl. Look at how she manages that store for her pothead boss. She's got a good head on her shoulders. And we girls will look out for her and make sure she doesn't jeopardize the band. You can be damn sure that Gabby will ride herd on her. She already is. And she's even chewed my ass off for even talking to you about commitment because she thinks I'm leading you on. But I'm not, Mike. I've done a lot of thinking about it, and a lot of growing. I'm committed to you. I'm still a stubborn maverick, and you're still a prickly, ornery character, but I want to be with you and nobody else, and we've got plenty of time to figure out the rest, right?"

Mike reached his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest, cradling her and tucking her head under his chin. "That's right, darlin', that's absolutely right. Everythin' you've said makes sense. You've got a handle on the situation and I'm gonna trust your point of view. I'm just so used to rulin' with an iron fist and bein' single-minded when it comes to how things oughta go, but we're all getting' older and findin' our one true love, and it had to happen at some point that one of us was gonna get tired of holdin' back that waterfall of emotions. The dam was bound to overtop at some point. But right now, honey, we gotta just hold on and hang in there and wait it out. I got a real good feelin' about what's just around the corner for this band. I can feel our time a'comin' real soon. And it seems like the universe wouldn'ta sent us all you wonderful gals our way if we were doomed to live in that Pad for the next ten years, strugglin' from gig to gig in relative anonymity. Somethin's gotta break through for us soon."

Wendy snuggled into Mike's chest and reached up to kiss his Adam's apple. "I have faith in you, Mike, to make things happen. You and all the guys. Pete got you that invitation, after all! Maybe you should put your faith on his brand of serendipity after all. In any case, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't be a hard ass on those two. Please don't bring them down. We need some joy in our little Monkees family. We've had so much pain and strife lately. Let's celebrate their happiness. Okay?"

"Okay, Wendy. We'll do that. You always make me want to be a better man. Micky says that about Gabby, too. I think Dawn made Peter a man, period. And as for Lynda, even though I don't think she's Davy's girlfriend anymore, she's still making him a better man and I think he knows it. I hope she's still gonna hang around us."

"Oh, she is. You guys are stuck with her whether you like it or not. She's part of our posse now. And don't be surprised if she's got a new beau very soon. That's just between you and me, by the way."

"Really, how do you reckon on that?"

"Because she's already met him at last Friday's gig. She and Davy had already broken up, but then Davy fainted and she put it on hold so that she could help Davy get through that horrible night and then see Davy through his physical. I hope the other guy shows up again tomorrow night, but who knows. She might have missed out on something really good just so she could do right by Davy. She's a great gal, and probably Davy never deserved her, but hopefully he'll have learned something from her and they'll stay friends and he'll be cool about her hanging around."

"Well if he isn't cool with it, I'll make sure he knows that the rest of us are and that should go a long way towards smoothing the way."

"Thanks, Mikey. I'm pretty sure she and Davy will always be friends. He's like an annoying little brother to her now. She's trying to teach him how to be a real man like the rest of you guys and he keeps fucking it up. I wonder if he'll ever learn."

"I don't know, darlin'. But we all think the world of him no matter what, so don't you girls be too hard on him. Everybody's got somethin' they're flawed at. My flaw is bein' a control freak hard ass. Good thing I got you to keep me in line." He grinned at her and gave her a smooch.

"Yeah, well, right back atcha. That's why we're so right for each other. So hurry up and become a successful rock star so we can quit worrying about whether we can be together forever, because I for one want to stop fretting about it. I'm not in it for the money, I'm in it for the sideburns." She winked at him and gave them a good stroking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	44. Chapter 44

Micky and Gabby were in the bathtub, trying to unwind before bed, but Gabby had a frown on her face and a wrinkle of concern between her eyebrows. Micky tried to make eye contact with her, but she wouldn't look him in the eye. She stared down into the water and swirled her fingers through it.

Finally, he spoke up. "Gabby, what's going through your mind? You look upset and distracted. Is this about me or someone else? Or something else?"

Gabby still wouldn't raise her head to look at Micky. She couldn't begin to explain how the argument with Wendy had made her feel. Hurt, ashamed, exposed, pressured, bullied, revealed as a hypocrite, humiliated, angry, embarrassed, inadequate, triggered with trauma, defeated. So instead of trying to characterize her feelings, she decided to just repeat the conversation to Micky and let him make of it what he would.

Now it was Micky's turn to have a confusing array of emotions, ranging from anger to regret to fear to acknowledgment of some validity in Wendy's positions on some of what she said on her own behalf though not her accusations against Gabby. He realized that that was the key.

"Gabby, I think there are two strands to the argument you and Wendy had. One half of it is the conflict between how Wendy feels that you were judging how she was behaving towards Mike and conducting her relationship with him, and the other half of the argument was about Wendy's mischaracterization (in my opinion) about your fear of commitment to me."

Gabby sighed and said "Well, Wendy does have a tendency to lash out and say hurtful things when her back is up against the wall."

Micky snorted and said "Sounds like a Texan longhorn I know. That's why they're so perfect for each other."

"But Wendy's got a point, and I realized it as soon as she said it and flounced out of the room in a huff. I don't give her enough credit for personal growth, and I never have. I've always hovered over her like a mother hen. I guess I do it because all our lives that we've been friends, she's made so many mistakes and shown such poor judgment, and she's hurt many people, including me, but most of all herself. And with Mike, she's already done it once and I just couldn't stand to see her do it again. Maybe I'm also afraid that if she breaks up with him that that will break apart our whole Monkees family, and I don't want that to happen, so I'm also being selfish. But look at Lynda. She's leaving Davy. She's not his girlfriend anymore but they'll stay friends and she's going to still hang out with us."

"Yeah, I know. I told Davy he should cut her some slack and continue to accept her as part of the group and he said he was fine with that. He knows he owes her his life, and he appreciates her continued friendship."

"Thanks, Micky. But back to this whole blowup with Wendy. I didn't give her enough credit for looking after Mike's heart. I owe her an apology, and I'll say something to her tomorrow. But that other thing that she said about you and me, I've been asking myself whether she's right. Am I leading you on? Am I shying away from a commitment to you? I was joking with the girls the other day saying that you and I are taking it slow and that it would be a miracle if you and I ended up living in the same neighborhood and raising a houseplant together. That wasn't very nice of me to say, but it's kind of true. I'm so terribly frightened of pinning my hopes on anything like the things you've mentioned, like living together or being together forever."

Micky leaned forward and took Gabby's hands in his. "Gabby, listen to me, look at me."

She raised her eyes to Micky and they were brimming with tears.

"Gabby, I think you're getting hung up on labels and conventions and other people's yardsticks and definitions of what commitment means. We're not them. We're you and me. We do our own thing. But if you want to compare us to other people, let's break it down. How long have we been dating? I mean really dating, like when did we go on our first real date, the night I took you to that sci-fi movie and you let me kiss you?"

"About two weeks."

"Right. How many people do you know decide to move in together or get married after two weeks?"

Gabby blushed, but she wasn't convinced. "Yeah, but we've known each other for longer than that, and we agreed to start dating a couple of weeks before that."

"Okay, so we've been dating for a month then. That's still not a long time, and it's less time than the other two couples in our group. We had some serious trust issues to work through, didn't we?"

"Yes, that's true," Gabby conceded.

"And even if we hadn't, still and all, most people don't fall for each other as fast as we have anyway. You and I feel very strongly about each other. We love each other. We're committed to each other. We're hoping we want to be together forever, but we're not there yet and we're in no hurry to figure it all out yet. I've decided that I'd love it if we could live together because it would make that process less stressful with more privacy and fewer logistics to work out. You've decided you aren't there yet. That's all. But think about this. How many nights have we spent apart in the last two or so weeks?"

Gabby thought it over and said "I think I've slept in my own bed without you once since that first time I slept with you at the Pad in your bed the night Dan came after me at your gig."

"Yeah, that's what I come up with, too. So that means we've basically been living together for the last two weeks. And the world hasn't screeched to a halt, and I don't know about you, but I've been having the time of my life and I've been feeling closer and closer to you with every passing day. I get the feeling you've been experiencing something similar. Am I right?"

Gabby grinned at this gentle logical path Micky was leading her down. "Yes, you're right. I cannot find a flaw in your logic, Captain."

"Right, Mr. Spock. So when you break it all down into little pieces and leave aside all the loaded terminology and social conventions and pressures, what it comes down to is we've been living and loving together for a short period of time and enjoying it very much and where we're at now is we're pretty much blissfully happy and that's all that really matters, right? Who cares what anyone else thinks? And who cares what it all adds up to or where it's all leading up to? If all we ever end up doing is buying you a pug and me a dog of my choice and rent an apartment with a bathtub and a shower, I'll be the happiest man alive. Even though I'd like more than that if you were up for it. I don't need it all. I just want you.

"And it can be years from now if that's what it takes, as long as there's a good reason why it took that long and we're both still committed to it. And if it never happens because you decide I'm not the right person for it to happen, then I'll be crushed but I'll know that it's for the best and I hope you'll tell me the minute you know that's what you think because Wendy's right about one thing, it wouldn't be right to lead me on, but I don't think that's what you're doing. You're making up your mind. You don't have enough information right now. It's too soon. I mean, really, it's too soon for you, until you tell me it's not and then we'll talk about it. I personally think Peter jumped the gun with Dawn, but he feels what he feels and that's what felt right for him and I'm not going to judge him for leading with his heart. But if he thinks he's going to move out of the Pad and leave us guys high and dry with a place we can't afford to rent without him, we'll string him up by his balls, so if he's thinking of having kids with Dawn, he'd best wait until we get established financially or else he won't have the ability to produce the sperm to sire any kids. So don't worry. I'm not going to pressure you or jump the gun. What do you think about what I've said? I want to hear what's in your mind and heart, Gabriella."

"I think you've put me back at ease, back where I was before Wendy dropped a turdburger in my barbecue. I've been feeling great about you and me, and even feeling optimistic about putting my past behind me and moving forward with you and me. It's true I joked about you and me moving at what I called a glacial pace, but it's also true what you say that in a way we're moving incredibly fast. I hadn't really thought about it that way. It seems like every day I spend with you our souls fuse together a little tighter and by the time I go to bed at the end of the day you're embedded even deeper inside of my being. If that's not living together then I don't know what is.

"There's a word I really love – quotidian. It means the everyday or mundane stuff of life. That's kind of what living in the same dwelling with you would be like. Like who's going to be in charge of buying the toilet paper and who will cook and who will clean the bathroom sink and will it be okay to read in bed with the light on or do you need the room to be dark because I'm a night owl and you're always going to fall asleep before I do? That's what it really comes down to once you start living together, the quotidian stuff. Before you get to that point, you already love each other very much and hopefully you won't make that move until you do. The fact is, I already love you more than any man I've ever known before, and I really don't care who buys the toilet paper or cleans the bathroom sink, and I already know you'll let me read with the light on while you doze off to sleep because it's already happened.

"So you're right. I'm getting hung up on stupid stuff and labels and benchmarks and forgetting about what's important, which is that the feelings we have for each other are the key to all of this. And if it doesn't freak me out about being this in love with you after such a short time dating you, and I love making love with you as much as I do, and I feel so uninhibited and free with you and able to be myself or an even better version of myself that I never even knew I could be, then that's what really matters, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's where it's at, my Gabby. That's the whole ballgame right there. The feelings, the love and how we relate to each other. The rest doesn't matter at all. You know you got really turned off that first night we met because I was in such a hurry to get to the end result with you. I had a goal in mind and wasn't going to spend the time to get to know you or court you. I was only trying to get you into bed and spend a little time with you and check off a box. You were right to be pissed off at me for that. You taught me that that's not the right way to do things. Well, we're not going to conduct our relationship that way either. Love isn't linear. We don't have a timetable or a schedule, and we aren't in a competition or a race with our friends. We have a unique set of circumstances and some obstacles we're trying to overcome and some growing to do and we're doing just fine the way we are. There are things I want and there are things I hope for and then there are things I'm already getting that are making me happier than I've ever been before. Guess what I'm focusing on right now? The here and now. If and when what I want and hope for becomes something that moves into the here and now and you decide you can't give it to me, you'll let me know and we'll have that discussion. But I'm not in the same universe with any of that stuff right now. We're young and immature and growing up together. I'll let you know if my status quo needs to change and you can do the same for me. Deal?"

"Deal. But just for the record, will you tell me what you'd ultimately like, Micky? I'd really like to know. I don't want you keeping me in the dark. I want to know now."

"Okay, since you asked, but don't take this as a laundry list or a letter to Santa Claus. I'd like a home with you, and a pug for you and another dog for me. I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think I want children, unless you don't. I'd rather be with you with no children, than to be without you and with children and you being miserable. No woman should ever have children if she doesn't feel she's cut out for being a mother. Especially these days with women moving into the workforce. But yeah, I think I'd be a good dad and I think I'd enjoy raising kids with you. But I'd also enjoy raising dogs with you if kids were a deal breaker. I won't let you leave me because of children. There's a downside to being a rock 'n roller and having kids who wouldn't have their dad around as much as they might need him and we'd have to talk about that anyway. So that's everything. Oh, wait, there's one more thing. I'd like to marry you. Okay, that's it. That's everything."

Gabby gulped and said "Okay, good to know. Do you want to know what I think about all that?"

Micky shook his head vigorously. "Nope, not if it's going to freak you out. Not if I'm going to lose you. Not if I'm going to have to scrape you off the ceiling, Gabby. I hate that Wendy's got you all het up about all this, and I do not want to have added to your anxiety level. In fact, I almost regret giving in and answering your question, but just like I couldn't love you and not tell you, I couldn't have those thoughts and not tell you about them when you asked me directly about them. So no, don't tell me unless you feel compelled to like I did. Only tell me if you really want me to know your thoughts. That's the only way I ever want things to be between us. Consensual. Equal. Free."

Gabby contemplated Micky's words for a moment and then took a deep breath. She decided she needed to liberate herself and speak her peace. "Micky, I do want to talk about it. I need to say what's on my mind and be straight with you and maybe that will help clear the air. Maybe I've been worried that I'd disappoint you and I've been hiding out from who I am or who I think I am and that maybe you won't like what you see. So I'm going to tell you and you can decide right now and I'll understand if you don't want to stick around.

"I never have thought about having kids. I mean, when I was dating that guy in the Navy, he just assumed I wanted kids because that's what he wanted. And I guess I went along with it because I was young and naïve and I thought that's what women were supposed to do. But the fact is, I believe in my heart that there are some women who ought not to have kids and that I'm one of them. I think my mother was one of them. She was a selfish, self-indulgent, immature woman who I'm pretty sure only had kids because that's what women in her generation did. And she raised us pretty much on her own because my father travelled all the time for his business, which was very hard for her, though I have to say she didn't put much effort into raising us, and she had help in the form of baby nurses and a housekeeper until I was about eleven.

"I mentioned that my sister and I were very neglected and you asked me what it did to my psyche. Well, it fucked me up very badly. I saw my sister turn into a druggie and I became a sexually precocious, socially insecure, rudderless girl who ended up with the character of a victim who was the perfect target of a narcissistic, abusive monster like Nick. I feel like I have enough to deal with taking care of my own mental health issues and becoming the person I want and need to be without inflicting that on the next generation. So that's one piece of it. The other piece of it is that I have huge ambitions. I want to be a career woman, maybe run for public office, lay my life down for the causes I believe in. Sometimes that's dangerous and there's no room for an infant on my hip. The time for that work is when I'm young and of childbearing years. The time is now.

"The final piece of the kids puzzle is about you. I never in my imagination thought I'd be in a romance with a guy who wanted to be a rock star. Now I know you've reformed yourself. I know you've sown your wild oats and I have no trust issues anymore about you and groupies, but if you become as successful as I hope you are, you're going to be on the road a lot, and you're going to be in recording studios and doing publicity all the time, and you're going to have your attention trained on things other than home and hearth. And even though you think you'll be a wonderful father and I think in a vacuum you would be, I'm not convinced that your career's lifestyle would be conducive to a child's mental nurturing. I'm pretty sure your kids would grow up the way I did – missing you the way I missed my dad, and not knowing you the way I didn't know my dad. Now I could be wrong about that and maybe you could convince me otherwise, and I'm open to hearing your counterarguments on that and everything else I've said. But I think my biggest concern about committing to you is that you're going to ask me to have kids and I'm not sure I can do that. I'm just not sure at all that I can give you children."

Micky had a look of shock on his face that he couldn't conceal. He had been holding Gabby's hands all the time they had been talking but now he let them go.

"So this is about kids? Not about me? Or yeah, it's about me, about me not being able to be a fit dad but not about you trusting me to live with me? I don't understand, Gabby. And now that you've said you don't want to have kids after I've told you it's okay if we never have kids, how come all I want to do is have kids because you told me we can't have them? How come I want to have a tantrum and I feel like a kid who just got his lollipop taken away from him? I'm a fuckin' liar and hypocrite."

Micky climbed out of the tub and started to dry himself off. Gabby was stunned and didn't know what was happening or how things had turned upside down so quickly. She thought she was filling in the last piece of the mosaic that would complete the picture and then she and Micky would have come to a true meeting of the minds. Hadn't he said that if she didn't want to have children that that would be okay with him, and hadn't he even said that he himself had some reservations about it because of his career choice? And hadn't he acknowledged that her having a career could and should take precedence over the decision of whether to have children? How had they gone from talking about raising a couple of dogs together being enough, to her offering to let him try to convince her to have kids if he could come up with a good enough argument not being enough for him?

Gabby pulled the plug on the water in the tub and climbed out, reached for the towel and realized she was alone in the bathroom now. Micky had already left and retreated to the bedroom. She closed and locked the bathroom door, sat on the toilet with her towel wrapped around her shoulders, and silently cried. She rocked back and forth and whimpered quietly before she realized that Micky would be able to hear her, so she shoved her fist in her mouth and quieted herself that way. She had done this many times during her relationship with Nick, and she was a pro at concealing her turmoil from a lover. After about twenty minutes, her teeth began to chatter and she longed for her pajamas, so she decided she couldn't stay in there any longer and she knew she had to go into the bedroom and face Micky, or at least grab her pajamas and put them on.

That's in fact what she did, or almost. Micky was lying on the bed with his back to her. She grabbed her pajamas and her Agatha Christie book and ran back into the bathroom again. After changing into her pajamas, she exited the bedroom, grabbed an extra blanket and pillow from the linen closet, and set herself up on the couch. Micky didn't follow her, though she really didn't expect him to. She read late into the night, her thoughts in a whirl, unable to find refuge in her English village this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	45. Chapter 45

Wendy was the first one up and spotted Gabby sleeping on the couch. A chill ran down her spine and she sprinted over to her and shook her awake.

"Gabby, what's happened? Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

Gabby was disoriented and had trouble understanding where she was. Then the horror of her situation came flooding back and she realized why she was sleeping on the couch and her face contorted with pain. She lashed out at Wendy and instead of issuing her the apology she intended to this morning, she spat out furiously "I'm sleeping on the fucking couch because of you and your insults and accusations about me and my supposedly stunted relationship with Micky. I told him what you said and we talked about it last night and now I'm sleeping on the fucking couch. I hope you're fucking happy, Wendy. I owe you an apology for what I said about you and Mike, and I'm sorry. But you really hurt me with what you said about me and Micky and now it's all turned to shit and now I'm sleeping on the fucking couch." Gabby burst into tears and turned away from Wendy, burying her head into her arms and cringing with sorrow and humiliation.

Wendy was used to Gabby being the rational one and having the luxury of being able to sass her and be immature and lash out at her. But this was an extraordinary display of vulnerability and peevishness on Gabby's part, and Wendy decided to be the bigger person and step up to the plate for her old friend and comfort her. She clutched at Gabby and turned her over and tried to hug her.

"Gabby, Gabbileh, tell me what happened. I don't understand. Tell me what you guys talked about. What was said? Unpack it for me."

Gabby continued to sob and tried to slap Wendy's hands away from her.

"Gabby, I'm sorry. I know I can be a bitch when my back's up. Please forgive me for giving it to you between the eyes. Tell me what happened with you and Micky. Let me comfort you."

Gabby turned to Wendy with a trembling lip and reached for and hugged her oldest friend, clinging to her now for solace and the unconditional love that only a lifelong friend can offer.

Wendy rocked Gabby and swirled her hand over her back to comfort her. "Let's go out to the pool and talk so we don't wake everybody up. Hold on, I know what you need. I've got a stash of Red Vines. Let me get them." Wendy grabbed a box of their favorite candy and they staggered out to the pool, Gabby clinging to Wendy and Wendy hugging and squeezing her affectionately.

They sat by the pool while Gabby recounted the conversation in the bathtub, plus she filled in some of the backstory of previous conversations she and Micky had had about commitment and Gabby's fears about it. Wendy realized she had been unfair in her estimation about the state of Gabby and Micky's relationship, and apologized for implying their relationship was stunted and that Gabby was dragging her feet or was defective in some way. The two girls discovered that they had missed out on a lot of communication between each other because they had both been so wrapped up in their boyfriends and promised to be in better touch with each other.

"Wendy, I don't know what to do. Micky did a total 180 on me last night, and he even admitted it. He knows he pulled the rug out from under me but he didn't apologize and he didn't explain. How do I even approach him about that? He's upset but I don't think I did anything wrong. If anything, I should be upset at him. He totally changed the playing field on me. After reassuring me again and again that I was safe and that he had no expectations of me that were unreasonable, I told him the one thing I didn't want and it turns out that even though he said before that he didn't mind if he couldn't have that and it wouldn't be a deal breaker, it turns out that it's a total deal breaker. It's like it was all about control after all. Just like Nick. If I didn't give Nick what he wanted, he'd shame me and hurt me. And now that's just what Micky has done to me. He withdrew his love and approval after he promised me he'd never do that. It's almost unforgiveable. Except I love him so much. I can't believe I'm saying this, but he could do almost anything and I'd forgive him, except fucking a groupie. But if I let him do this to me, then maybe the next time it _will_ be that he'll be fucking a groupie. That's how it started with Nick, too. It was a slippery slope. Oh, Wendy, I'm so frightened."

Wendy hugged Gabby and reassured her "Gabby, Micky is NOT Nick. He's not cut from the same shitty cloth. He's a man of character. He's just confused. You threw him for a loop. I'm not saying you did anything wrong. And he was completely honest about how he was being unfair to you. Just give him a chance to explain himself. Don't make any hasty decisions about what he did or what it means. Just try to suspend your judgment and see what he has to say."

"But what if he's expecting me to apologize to him? I mean he's the one who walked out on me! And I'm the one who slept on the fucking couch, not him! He must think I'm the one at fault, that I did something wrong. He must be really angry at me or disappointed in me. I just want to run away from the whole situation. Run and hide and never see him again. I'm mortified. I'm terrified, Wendy. I'm so scared. I gave him my heart and my trust and everything. I was just being honest. Maybe I should have listened to him when he warned me not to speak about what was on my mind. Maybe he was trying to tell me he really didn't want to hear my truth. But then why does he get to say his truth and I don't get to say mine? I'm so confused. I just want to walk away from this whole mess."

Wendy shook Gabby's shoulders and said "Gabby, listen to yourself! You are not yourself right now. You are a strong woman. You are not a victim. You are not Nick's victim. This is not Nick. It's Micky. Don't go into turtle mode. That's what you told me when I wanted to hide out from Mike and not tell him about the roadie gig I took. Now you're going to have to face up to this with Micky. Maybe he's the one who's mortified and maybe he's going to be giving you the silent treatment. Isn't that going to piss you off? What will you do then?"

"My natural instinct would be to tell him off, but I feel so raw and vulnerable right now I'd just as soon slink away and hide under a rock," Gabby admitted, cringing at what a weakling she sounded like.

"Okay, you are clearly overwrought and you didn't sleep well. You're not thinking clearly. I'm going to prescribe a soak in the Jacuzzi."

"But I don't have my bathing suit."

"Girl, you don't need your suit. It's six in the morning. Just go nakey and relax. No one will be out here for hours. I'm going to go in and make you a cup of coffee. I'll be out in a few minutes. Go on."

"Okay, it might feel good. I had a terrible bath last night."

Wendy walked into the house and sent a prayer up to heaven and asked God's forgiveness for what she was going to do. Then she walked into the bedroom where Micky was sleeping without even knocking and shook him by the shoulders.

"Micky, wake up!"

"Huh, what? Wendy? What's happened? What's going on?" Micky rubbed his eyes and felt for the other side of the bed and noticed it was empty.

Wendy looked at his flailing hand and said "Yeah, the bed's empty. I guess you never noticed but Gabby spent the night on the couch last night."

Micky sat bolt upright in bed. "She did? What the fuck?"

"Hmph. You men are so fucking clueless. At least you aren't purposely insensitive. Just fucking clueless. Gabby slept on the couch all night and she thinks you slept in the bed knowing she slept on the couch and just left her out there."

"Awww, fuck," Micky groaned and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it.

"Yeah, she thought you didn't give a shit about her and she cried herself to sleep on the fucking couch. She told me all about the fight you had in the bathtub. You sure did a number on her, Micky."

Micky was uncharacteristically uncordial to Wendy. "Yeah, well welcome to the club. You got her all wound up and started the whole mess."

Wendy bristled a bit but relented. "Yeah, I know. She apologized to me about what she said about me and Mike, and I told her I'm sorry as well. She explained a lot to me about the real situation with your relationship and how close you two really are and how loving and committed you've become, and I realized I didn't know what I was talking about when I said what I did, and I've apologized."

"Well, I'm so glad you have a thorough understanding of how great our relationship is now that it's not so great anymore, Wendy. Way to go."

"Micky, that's all on you! Don't you dare put that on me. Apparently, according to Gabby, you pulled a Jekyll and Hyde act last night and completely pulled the rug out from under her, and you even admitted as much. She doesn't know which end is up and she's confused and frightened."

Micky's eyes widened with concern and horror. "Frightened? You mean she's scared of me?"

"Yeah, Micky, you scared the pants off her. She's flashing back on a certain other guy who used to turn her world upside down with no explanation, who would tell her one thing and then change the rules on her for no apparent reason and make her feel like she was the one to blame, who would lull her into a false sense of security and make her believe one set of facts and then tell her it was all a lie and he really meant something else completely. And the worst part of it is that she loves you so much that she's too scared to walk away from you even though she knows that's the safest thing to do."

Micky covered his mouth like he wanted to throw up. He turned pale and began to tremble. "Wendy, what can I do? I freaked out, I fucked up, I even admitted it but I couldn't stop my mouth from running off. What should I do?"

Wendy took pity on Micky and put her hand on his shoulder. "Micky, I know you didn't mean to wound Gabby, but you did. You said one thing and then you immediately said the opposite. She's confused and she needs to know which statement is operative. That's all. Clarify your position. Then she can decide whether to stay or go. She's not going to keep you from being happy and she isn't going to want to stay with you if what you want isn't going to make her happy or if she can't give you what you want. So go tell her what you really want, what you can live with, and whether those things are compatible with what she has to offer. She's in the Jacuzzi right now. Go out there right now. And Micky, don't wear your swimsuit because she doesn't have one on either. It wouldn't be fair. Just go in your pajamas and ask her permission before you go in there."

Micky looked at Wendy like she was a cross between cupid, a mad scientist and a porno movie director, shrugged his shoulders and left the room. He padded out to the Jacuzzi and called to Gabby.

"Gabby, it's me, can I come over there? Wendy told me you were out here."

Gabby gasped as she realized that Micky was approaching and she was vulnerable and naked. "Micky, I don't have a suit on, I'm naked. Dammit, this is a classic Wendy setup."

"Yeah, I know. She told me. I can leave if you want me to. Or I can sit over here. Or I can get in the water with you. Tell me what you want me to do."

"You can either leave or stay, Micky. You're your own person."

"If I stay, can I get in the water with you? I don't want to be an outcast. I want to be close to you and talk to you. I love you, Gabby."

Gabby hesitated and tried to remember who Micky was and what he meant to her. Her anxiety level had risen so high she was starting to feel as though she was floating outside her body, looking down on the scene taking place as a detached participant. She closed her eyes and concentrated. "Say that again, Micky."

"I love you, Gabby."

"Okay, you can come in here with me."

Micky got undressed and climbed in the water with Gabby. He sat on the far side of the Jacuzzi opposite from Gabby when he noticed her shrink away from him.

"Good morning, Gabby."

"Hi, Micky."

"Wendy told me you slept on the couch last night."

Gabby scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, that was news to you?"

Micky frowned and said "Actually, it was. I waited for you to come out of the bathroom for a long time and I was crying and it made me tired and I guess I fell asleep – you know how that happens to both of us when we're really upset. I'm sorry. I never woke up. The whole fight and the crying just shut me down and I never woke up until Wendy woke me up this morning."

Gabby's skeptical look changed to one of recognition. She remembered the times when stress, fear and upset had caused her to more or less pass out, and she also remembered at least one occasion when it had had a similar effect on Micky. So far, he wasn't lying to her. Was this the yardstick that she had to use now when judging whether to trust a man — whether he was lying to her? She shook her cynical head and thought to herself ' _You're pathetic, Gabby_.'

Gabby didn't know whether Micky wanted praise or recognition for this point, so she just replied "Mhmm. I remember."

"Wendy told me about the conversation you two had, and about where your head is at this morning, Gabby. I'll cut to the chase. I'm ashamed that I've upset you. No that's not good enough. She told me I've frightened you, that I've made you revert back to the mindset you had when you were dealing with Nick and you're questioning whether I'm just like him. Whether I'm playing mind games with you and trying to pull a fast one on you or manipulate your mind or harm you."

Gabby started to fidget and gulp for air and backed up against the wall. She was no longer occupying her own vulnerable, naked body, and she felt even more vulnerable with Micky so close to her and naked himself. She didn't know what he'd say or do next. But as in days of old with Nick, her instinct was to play possum and stay silent and pretend she was dead or asleep and hope her pursuer would do his worst or just think she was useless and leave her alone. She froze up and Micky continued to speak, as the blood rushed through her ears and her heart beat violently.

"Gabby, please listen to me. Can you hear me? Gabby?"

Gabby blinked at Micky but no sound came from her mouth. She was having a dissociative fugue, a silent panic attack, a break from reality, seeking comfort in zoning out in the safe haven of her blurry, confused, checked-out mind.

Micky perceived what was happening and lifted himself out of the water. "Gabby, I'm going to go get you a towel, okay? I'm going to go get you a towel and dry you off and take care of you. You are in shock right now, and I don't know if you can even hear me. So just stay where you are. I'll be right back."

He pulled his pajama pants back on and dashed into the house. He rushed back out with some towels and Gabby's robe. He stopped short of the Jacuzzi and said "Gabby, can I come dry you off? You're suffering right now and I want to take care of you. Will you let me do that?"

Gabby looked blankly at Micky and nodded her head curtly.

He crawled over to her and gave her his hand. She took it and scrambled out of the hot water and into the towel he held open for her. He wrapped it around her and just held her still for a moment.

Quietly, Micky asked "Can I dry you off, Gabby?"

She nodded her head again and he started to pat her dry, not moving the towel but just pressing his hands over it. He removed the first one and grabbed another one and wrapped it around her and repeated the process. He took a third one and rubbed it over her hair and then smoothed her usually sleek hair down just so that it wasn't dripping.

He helped her put her robe on and then led her to a lounge chair. He took a fourth dry towel and wrapped it around her shoulders to warm her and pulled her close to him and held her with his arm around her shoulders. She had her head cast down to the ground and would not look at him.

"Can I bring you back to the house, Gabby? It might be a good idea for you to lie down and get some rest. I know you didn't sleep well last night. We don't have to talk about this now. There's all the time in the world to – "

"Is there, Micky?" Gabby asked abruptly, taking him by surprise.

"W-w-what?" he stuttered.

" _Is_ there all the time in the world? That's what you told me last night in the tub, and then minutes later you were telling me that what I had to offer wasn't going to be enough for you and never would be and you left me there in the cooling water by myself. You left me by myself. You _left_ me! You conned me into thinking there was no pressure, that you had no expectations of me, that if I confided in you what was really in my heart that it would all be okay because what you told me was really in your heart nearly matched what was in mine anyway, and the next thing I know you're telling me that what's in my heart just isn't any damn good enough for you and you fucking leave me by myself in the cooling bath water. Next thing I know, I'm crying on the toilet with my fist crammed in my mouth so you can't hear me whimpering, just like I did when I was with Nick, and then I'm sleeping on the fucking sofa! So don't fucking tell me that there's all the time in the world if there's no such thing, Micky. Don't fucking lie to me!"

Micky was stunned at Gabby's outburst coming so fast on the heels of her nearly catatonic meltdown, but he wasn't surprised by the substance of what she had to say. He knew he had it coming and that she was summing up pretty accurately what had happened.

"You're right, Gabby. I said what I said, and I did what I did. I have to own it and take responsibility for it. I don't know why I said it or did it. It's a mystery to me. It's not what my conscious heart or mind really wanted to happen. I was being selfish and cruel. I think I heard 'you can't have this' and I just rebelled. I didn't even think about it. The fact is, I had told you already there are plenty of reasons not to have kids, probably more reasons not to have than to have them, and you and I both named them all. But I still dug in my heels when I heard 'You can't have this.'"

"Why, Micky? Why? Why throw it all away? Why work so hard to build us up and give me confidence that what we had was true and solid and real and then just crush your fist down on it and destroy my confidence in it all?"

"Maybe for the same reason why you keep balking at committing to the relationship, too. Because I got scared. Because I don't want to rush into anything either. Because I'm not a hundred percent sure of what I want either. I can't promise you, Gabby, that I absolutely don't want kids, any more than you're willing to promise me that you're willing to move in with me as soon as I can afford it. I keep trying to tell you that. Neither one of us is solid on the future or our maturity level. We both have growing and healing to do. That's why it's never bothered me that you weren't willing to indulge my fantasies about shacking up, because I wasn't willing to indulge your fantasies about making concrete decisions about whether or when we'd decide about kids, not that you ever really mentioned it, but I suspected you were ambivalent about it. I'm not a dummy. Any woman who's madly in love who doesn't start talking about having kids sooner or later probably doesn't want to have kids, and the only thing you've talked about wanting to have is a pug. So that's what I fantasized about – you and me having a dog or two. And I'm happy with that. Or I was. Or I still am. But I don't want to say for sure that I'm totally a hundred percent sure about never having kids. And you aren't willing to say whether you're even willing to move in with me. How come I have to be understanding of your hangups and you don't have to understand mine?"

Gabby realized there was justice and reason in what Micky was saying, even as it hurt to acknowledge it. "I get what you're saying now, Micky. You're right. It hurts, but you're right. There are equities to balance on both sides. So the question is, do we go on with uncertainties on both sides, or do we walk away knowing that we might never have a meeting of the minds and that you might be better off finding someone else who could make you happy?"

Micky wrinkled his brows in frustration. "What is this about, making yourself the martyr here, Gabby? How come I'm the one who can only be happy if I leave you? Why does it sound like the only way for me to be happy is for me to be selfish? I'm not suggesting an arrangement based on selfishness, I'm suggesting a partnership based on trust, acceptance and growing up together."

"Micky, come on. We both know that kids are not an add-on option like white walls on a car's tires. They're the car itself. You either want them or you don't. I'm telling you I don't. You're telling me you might. I'm going to be a disappointment to you and you're going to break my heart. Even though you know that there are really good reasons for you not to have kids, you still want them and I'm not the right person to give them to you, you still want to be with me? To what end? So I can frustrate a dream you have and then you can end up resenting me? I don't see why me wanting to avoid that fate makes me a martyr. I think it makes me generous and sensible. I'm giving you your life back. I'm handing you back your freedom."

Micky looked at Gabby and said "Gabby, I'm going to touch you now, okay?"

Gabby said "Okay."

He took her by the arms and squeezed them in his grip firmly, but not roughly. He wanted to make his point but not hurt her.

"Gabby, please listen to me and hear me. It's not fair for you to tell me what I want, any more than it would be for me to tell you what you want. I'm not telling you you have to have my children, so please don't tell me I can't love you because you won't have my children. Think about it! Can you imagine how angry you would be at me if I told you I wouldn't marry you if you didn't have my children? You're doing the same thing to me now. You're telling me you won't be with me because I won't let you _not_ have my children. It's insane!"

"But Micky, what if you change your mind?"

"Yeah, and what if I married you and you cheated on me and we got divorced? Or what if we dated for a year and we decided we didn't love each other enough to make the relationship last and kids had nothing to do with it? Or what if we moved in together and you decided I was too much of a slob or annoying to live with and you gave me the boot and we never got to the issue of whether to have children? There are so many ifs, Gabby! Life doesn't have any guarantees. We've been dating for a month and I kissed you for the first time two fucking weeks ago and now we're talking about making babies? This is stupid. I'm so sorry I brought us to this point. I regret opening my mouth about any of this. I told you I had a bad tendency to get ahead of myself and now I'm paying for it dearly. This has gotten out of hand and I'm putting a stop to it right now."

"What do you mean, Micky?" Gabby was quaking and shivering with worry and stress.

Micky stood up and brought Gabby to her feet. He stuck out his hand and said "Hi, I'm Micky Dolenz. I find you quite attractive and I'd like to take you out on a date. Are you available after my gig tonight?"

Gabby was speechless and nonplussed. She didn't know what to say or how to react. So Micky took her right hand and shook it and answered for her in a falsetto voice: "Hi, I'm Gabriella Levitt. You're cute, I'd love to go out with you."

He answered back in his normal voice. "Great. Meet me after the show and we'll go out together. I look forward to spending time with you." Then he walked Gabby towards the house, guided her back to their room and settled her down for a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	46. Chapter 46

Micky and Gabby rode in the back seat of the Monkeemobile, both silent and staring off into space. They were each dwelling separately in their tortured minds, until Micky felt like he was going to scream. He looked at Gabby's hand, sitting on the seat next to him, and wondered if he dared take hold of it. Did he have the nerve, did he have the right?

Gabby's thoughts were more punitive. She was furious at herself for allowing herself to give her heart to this man sitting next to her. How could she have gotten in so deep so fast without gaming it all out? Of course Micky might want kids. Every man might want kids. Why hadn't it occurred to her before their first date to say something like "Oh, by the way, in case you're interested in this date turning into a relationship going anywhere important, I'm a damaged person who really oughtn't to have kids and I probably don't want to have them and if you're in the market for them, then I'm probably not the one for you, so if you do want them, then let's just skip the whole thing." She snorted with a laugh at the whole notion of such a ridiculous approach to dating and realized how futile it was to try to construct a foolproof fortress around her heart. 

Her snorking laughter caught Micky's attention and he raised an eyebrow of inquiry at her. She looked at him and said "I was just thinking that before our first date tonight, I ought to warn you that I've got serious issues with having children and from now on, that's my opening gambit before all first dates or I kiss a boy. So if that's a turnoff for you, don't go on the date with me."

Now Micky did what he had been wanting to do and he reached for her hand. He smiled and said "Wow, that's quite a how do you do. But good to know. My sign is Pisces, by the way."

Gabby sighed and exhaled the breath of stress she had been holding in and felt glad to be back on a footing with Micky she knew well – humor. She squeezed his hand gratefully and leaned her head back on the seat. "Still want that date?"

"Yes, Gabriella. More than anything else, except a recording contract."

She smiled and said "I think you've got your priorities in the right order."

"That's how I'm going to get everything else I want in life – the girl, the apartment, and the dogs."

She jerked her head sideways to look at Micky and scrutinized him to see if he was patronizing her or trying to trick her. He cut her off at the pass.

"Don't do that, Gabby. Don't try to read me and figure out whether I'm conning you. That's all I want right now in life. If there's more to come, I'll tell you. I promise. Or, okay, if I'm honest, I would like a house if I could afford it, but that's it!" He giggled, shrugged and winked at her.

She smiled and decided to accept him at face value. What was wrong with letting a man love you and give you what you wanted if that's what he wanted to do, if only for a while? Who's to say how long we have on this Earth anyway, reasoned Gabby, thinking of Micky's cousin George's girlfriend, who now had to start her life over and find someone else to love. 

"Okay, Micky. As usual, your wooing powers are too strong for me to resist. I trust you despite all reason and logic, and I love you. And I forgive you for being a colt with unsteady limbs and for maintaining your boundaries, because that's no more than I would have done for myself, even if you did do it in a way that wasn't very kind or graceful. You warned me that you were still learning how to use your limbs and that I might get stepped on, and now I have and it's over and done with a minimum of injuries."

She turned to him and put her hand on his cheek and remembered something important. "You know, it just occurred to me that you're still grieving for George and you're probably not even in your right mind, and I didn't even cut you any slack for that. Maybe it didn't occur to you either. That's not very compassionate of me, or at least not very perceptive. I'm going to take that into account too. When I was with Nick, I used to make up all sorts of excuses for him for his bad behavior, and it scares the fuck out of me to be saying this to you, but honestly, you deserve some consideration. That's not an excuse. That's consideration. So take it for what it's meant to be. Don't abuse it."

Micky mulled this over and said "You know, things have been so topsy turvy I didn't even think about that. Things move so fast with me and you. We seem to switch back and forth between the two of us with crises and emotional upheavals and it's hard to remember who's hurting more and who needs the support more, or for that matter who's got less sanity at any given moment. Can we agree that we're both kind of fragile, emotional nuts?"

"Hey, I resent that!" Gabby bristled. Micky's face clouded over with fear that he had offended her and said the wrong thing again. "I like to think of myself as a highly functioning nut!" She smiled at Micky and he broke into a wide grin. 

"Babe, thanks for accepting me with all my frailties and quirks. That's another reason why I'll fight to the death to hang on to you. Nobody has ever taken the time to get to know who I really am and liked what they found. I'm messy and complicated and not very macho and I cry and I'm emotional and I'm annoying..."

"And you're lovely and kind and funny and caring and patient and you listen and pay attention and you're my Micky and I love you." 

* * *

Everyone dropped Lynda off at her place in Santa Monica, and the guys switched from Wendy's car to the Monkeemobile on their way home to Malibu. All the girls bade them farewell until the gig later that night. Dawn and Wendy pumped Gabby for information all the way home and she filled them in on the uneasy truce she and Micky seemed to have established. She said she was worn out and didn't want to fight anymore, but that she still didn't feel secure about anything and was dubious about what the future held. She was going to do what she had done all along, which was to take a wait and see attitude.

Wendy snorted and said "Yeah, that was a winning formula before, Gabby."

Gabby blew a gasket and shrieked at Wendy and said "You had best keep your fat trap shut, Wendy, unless it's to do penance for throwing me and Micky into a tailspin in the first place. Just like you told me I know fuck-all about you and Mike, well you knew fuck-all about me and Micky before you opened your ill-informed mouth, coming down on me for what you perceived as my inadequacies about commitment. We were doing just fine before you blithely shook up our snow globe and scattered everything to the four winds. We had no need to address the topic of commitment, and the only reason why we did was because I was explaining to Micky why I was so upset with you. So don't go looking to stir shit up again. I'm going to trust Micky now as much as I did before, which is way more than I ever have any other man. I'm going to give him everything I have to give. If that's not enough for him or you and it all goes down in flames, then that's too damn bad. If I'm forever the bridesmaid and never the bride, then fine. I'm going to live my life with integrity and stand my ground and so is Micky. We are very clear that that's what we both want. He has told me that in no uncertain terms. We are one. You do you and I'll do me."

Dawn piped up and said "Wendy, I thought you had already done your penance with Gabby and were going to be more considerate and thoughtful about commenting about her relationship with Micky. You already said you misunderstood what they were all about, and you didn't realize the nature of their bond. Why are you being such a shit-stirrer?"

Wendy now launched herself at Dawn, screeching "How come you get to be all carefree and on the way to the altar and the rest of us have to be responsible and clean up for your mess? How come I have to be sensible and mature and sensitive to Gabby's needs and your needs and you get to just ignore my needs altogether? I don't get to have my heart's desire until the band makes it to the bigtime and you get to just go off to the forest and get engaged to your one true love. That's not fair to the rest of us! So don't you dare tell me I'm being insensitive or stirring shit up, Dawn. You just dropped a fucking bomb into the middle of the Monkees family complex. Don't you even realize that? How are we supposed to trust that you and Pete aren't going to just run off and elope and leave the rest of us holding the bag and crush everyone's dreams?"

Dawn glared at Wendy, who couldn't really see the fire blazing in her eyes because she had her eyes on the road, but she knew Wendy could feel the heat radiating from her eyeballs just the same. "What do you take me for, Wendy? You know damn well I'm not going to go off half-cocked and do anything to jeopardize the Monkees or the dreams of any of us girls. We're a team, we're friends, we're a family. What the hell is wrong with you? What's happened to you? It's like you're inhabited by an evil spirit and I want to tie you down and have the devil exorcised out of you. What's really eating you? Why are you dumping all over me and Gabby?"

Wendy spotted a Denny's and pulled into the parking lot. She said not a word and filed into the restaurant and commandeered a booth. The other two girls grabbed seats and just looked at Wendy, waiting for an explanation. Wendy sighed and looked at both of them.

"Girls, I know nothing I've said is fair or right or accurate. Dawn, I went to bat with you with Mike the night you announced your engagement and said all the things you've said just now in your own defense. Gabby, I went to bat for you with Micky and told him off and got him to go out there and set things right with you. I'm hating myself for acting out and flailing around and lashing out. This is really about me. I'm scared."

Gabby reached across the booth for Wendy's hands and gripped them. "Why, Wendy? What's going on?"

Wendy began to cry. "I think I'm pregnant."

Gabby looked at Dawn and Dawn looked at Gabby and they both had the same expression on their faces. Their mouths were open and their eyebrows were raised to their fullest height. They had terrified masks of fear and revulsion, and pity warred with anger and frustration.

Gabby spoke first. "How, Wendy? You're on the pill. You told me so."

"Yeah, I know. But you have to take it at the same time every day, and there was one day that I took it a few hours later than I was supposed to. I'm not sure if that's enough to break the protective seal, but I'm a few days late on my period and I'm not feeling like I usually do at this time of the month, other than I'm cranky and stressed out. I know it's too early to be sure, but I'm freaking out because if it's true, then I'll be the one who explodes that bomb in our group I was talking about, and I've been projecting all my faults on you gals. I'm the one who's really scared about commitment and kids, and I'm the one who's jumped the gun with maybe getting knocked up and putting the band's financial position in jeopardy, and I hate myself for it. And I know that all of you, every single last one of you, are going to hate me for it, too, because I'm not just going to ruin my life and Mike's life, but I'm going to ruin the rest of your lives as well." She put her head in her hands and groaned and began to pull at her wild hair and sob.

Dawn whistled and said "Hooboy, Wendy, you sure know how to do it up right. And knowing you're walking around with your drawbridge possibly at half mast, you still had wild sex in the car on the way to the tram yesterday? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I wasn't. Or if I was, I figured what's done is done and it's already too late, and I better get used to making him the center of my world and tending to his needs because I'm going to be having his baby and he's going to be my number one priority for the rest of my life. I've already blown it. I'm worthless and if all I can do is make him happy minute by minute, then that's what I'm going to do. And also if he's going to dump me, I wanted one last hurrah."

Dawn scoffed and said "Well where do you get off lecturing Gabby or me on the maturity of our decisions, I'd sure like to know? That's about the stupidest, most childish, short-sighted thinking I've ever heard. You owe us both a big fat fucking apology, and then after you've given it to us, we can clear the air and figure out how we're going to help you get your situation sorted out. So get it over with and let's get down to business." She crossed her arms and waited.

Wendy gulped and wiped her nose on her sleeve and said with absolutely no hauteur or false pride "Gals, I'm sorry for being a bitch and a shit-stirrer. I apologize for turning both of your worlds upside down and acting like I had a clue about your relationships or what was the right move for either of you to make. And I ask for your forgiveness and continued friendship because I love you and because I desperately need your help, guidance and support."

Gabby finally spoke up and said "That was good, Wendy. Pretty groundbreaking for you. I think we should accept it, Dawn. That's as good as it's gonna get. Let's get down to it now and figure out what to do about this mess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	47. Chapter 47

Both Dawn and Gabby were veterans of pregnancy scares, having both been sexually active for many years, while Wendy was in her first long-term sexually active relationship and was less experienced, so this was her first brush with the trimester terror. They both agreed that Wendy needed to follow protocol and keep her mouth shut for now. She should give it at least a solid week to be late, even two weeks would be preferable, just to be sure, but they knew keeping Wendy's mouth clamped down for that long would be damn near impossible. Wendy agreed to wait at least three more days to make it a round seven before she mentioned anything to Mike. That would mean that the bite of shit sandwich would land on a Monday, which would be perfect because Mondays were shitty anyway. Wendy also gave the girls permission to fill Lynda in on the situation so that solidarity could be maintained and that no slipups happened.

Wendy insisted that if and when she was going to have the talk with Mike about the pregnancy, she wanted her girls to be present. Gabby and Dawn felt it was a gross intrusion on Mike's privacy, but Wendy said she was a chicken shit and felt that this was an event that involved the whole Monkees family and was insistent that they all be involved. Gabby countered with insisting that if that was the case, then the guys needed to be included as well. Wendy began to see that having a full-on board meeting to disclose an addition to the Monkees family would send Mike into the red zone faster than if she just told him alone, and so she relented and agreed to make it a private conversation. Still, they all agreed to hold a group conclave immediately following the private discussion, assuming Mike was still speaking to her.

So the gals asked Lynda to come over to their place a couple of hours before the gig and they delivered the news to her while they all got ready for the night out. She was shocked but fairly sanguine about the whole situation. Unflappable seemed to be Lynda's natural state of being. She didn't get too high or too low. She took life as it came at her and she just rolled with it. Gabby looked at Lynda like the beach when the tide came in and went out. The sand would always still be there no matter how much the waves crashed over it. Lynda had already been through plenty of turbulence with Davy in their short friendship. Gabby secretly hoped that Robert would be at tonight's gig to bring some much needed cheer to Lynda's life.

* * *

As they drove to the gig, Gabby fretted about how to comport herself. She felt like she really was going on a first date with Micky. Awkward, uncertain of her ground, reluctant to get close to him or tip her hand, and vulnerable. Just like she felt when they first started dating. So when he spotted her before the gig and came over to greet her with a hug, her stiff body posture took him by surprise initially but he intuited its meaning and switched tactics. He decided to stick with the fantasy game they had been playing and stuck out his hand to greet her.

"Hi, Gabriella, I'm glad you could make it to my gig. I'm looking forward to seeing you after the show. I hope you enjoy it."

She took his hand and held it in hers for a moment longer than necessary as she tried to figure out where his mind was taking her, took a deep breath, and decided to play along. She said "Yes, I'm glad to be here, Micky. I'll see you after the show?"

Micky said "Oh, I'll check in with you during our first break. We generally break for a half hour midway through the night, so I'll see you then. We finish up around 2 a.m. and then we break our equipment down. I hope that's not too late for you to stay out. Do you have a curfew I need to get you home in time for?"

Gabby giggled and said "No, I don't live with my folks anymore. I can stay out late now. I'm a big girl."

Micky gave her a once over with his appraising eyes and said "Yes, I can see you are. Okay, I'll see you later. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you, Gabriella."

"You can call me Gabby, Micky."

"No, I don't think so. I feel like maybe we ought to get to know each other better first, if that's okay with you. I don't want to overstep my boundaries." He turned and walked away towards the stage.

Wendy, Dawn and Lynda had been eavesdropping and were all agog. "What the hell was _that_ all about?" asked Dawn.

"Micky's courting me all over again, trying to regain my trust. So I'm letting him, even though I told him I trust him and I love him and I forgive him. So I'm just going to let him do his own goofy thing. And I don't want your opinion, any of you, especially you, Wendy, on whether you think that's wise or the way to go. It's what Micky wants and it's what he thinks I need to feel safe again."

The girls all just nodded their heads and murmured "Okay" and tried to make private sense out of the insanity of Gabby and Micky's complicated courtship regression. All they seemed to come up with was that there was a great love on the line and that they needed to support both of them in the hope that they would come out stronger on the other side.

As they all contemplated that tangled romance, Lynda trilled out a greeting to Robert, who approached the girls with a friendly wave. He was dressed in a variation of last week's gig outfit – blue jeans, studded belt and black combat boots, but this time the t-shirt was solid black and Lynda felt her knees get a little rubbery as she saw it grip what she could not help noticing were very defined chest and abdomen muscles. He held out his hand in greeting to all the girls but Lynda, whom he hugged. 

"It's great to see you gals. What have you been up to this week?"

They all looked to Gabby, asking silent permission to share the drama that they had experienced with Micky and she nodded her assent. Lynda explained first about Davy's army physical, which had taken place on Monday. As she mentioned the physical had taken place on Monday, the dawn of comprehension alit in Robert's eyes as he now realized what Lynda's reference to a loose end was that she needed to tie up on that day. Then she moved on to narrating what had happened to Micky's cousin George and their subsequent flight to Palm Springs to try to soothe Micky's broken, grieving heart.

"Whoa, that's some heavy duty stuff you all have been dealing with. I'm really sorry for all of you, especially Davy and Micky. If you'll excuse me, I just want to go up there and see if I can catch a quick word with them before the show starts." He gave Lynda's hand a squeeze and then walked up to the stage, greeting all the guys and lingering to shake Davy's hand and bang him on the back with a hearty congratulations. Then he moved to Micky and gave him a gentler, sympathetic handshake and appeared to be swapping a story of his own about someone he knew who had been lost in the war. Micky was nodding his head and put his hand on Robert's shoulder in a gesture of reciprocal sympathy. 

Gabby watched all of this silently, knowing Micky well enough to interpret his body language accurately to know what was going down. She noticed that Micky seemed to be inviting Robert to join them after the show, since he was pointing to Lynda and then back to the guys and then gesturing out towards the exit. She was proud of him for realizing that although the situation would need to unfold organically, Lynda would also need to feel that she had the okay from everyone else to incorporate any new beau into the group. She and Micky made eye contact just at the moment and she smiled at him, willing him to hear her thanking him. He seemed to get the message and gave her a smile in return, then glanced back at Robert and shook his hand again and walked over to his drum kit.

The first half of the show, Gabby hung back from the stage and danced away from her friends. She wanted to lose herself in the music and be alone with her thoughts and feelings. She wanted to hit that pocket, that zone of release and elevation that she used to attain, before the gigs became more significant events in which she was personally invested. She had her eyes closed and was whirling around and not paying any attention to who was near her. Thus, when she opened her eyes during a transition into a slower song, she didn't even realize that a guy was standing in front of her and had asked her to dance. She stared at him speechless and he repeated the question, "Would you like to dance?" Since she said nothing, he just took her into his arms and began to move her around the dance floor. 

She was in a trance when he said "How have you been, Gabby? We missed you at the store." Snapping out of her clouded fog, she realized she was dancing with one of her former Simpsons coworkers, a guy whom she didn't know well, other than the fact that he had worked in the nonfiction section and had sold her the book about Vietnam that she was now reading. 

"John, wow, I didn't even realize it was you. I'm really out of it tonight. I'm fine. Well, not really, I'm actually pretty shitty to tell you the truth."

"Well that's not good, Gabby. Want to talk about it?"

Gabby felt at that moment that she had absolutely nothing to lose and no filter between her brain and her mouth. She said "Well, my boyfriend is the drummer of the band we're listening to and we've had a huge upset with our relationship and we're trying really hard to figure it all out, and I'm pretty sure we're both devastated about it and want to find a way to get back to the way things were before we said some things to each other that we wish we hadn't but they had to be said, and now we have to find a way to move forward."

John thought a moment and said "That sounds very complicated, raw and real, Gabby. And it sounds like you're both handling it in a mature, loving way. I really hope things work out for you two. You're talking about Micky, aren't you?"

"Yes, Micky. I didn't know whether you ever got to meet him in the short time he worked at the store."

"Well, no, I never got to speak to him at the store, but he was such a character that everyone pretty much felt like they knew him, plus he and I did get to chatting a bit out in the outfield during that one softball game we played together. He's a really good guy, Gabby."

"I know, John. But I'm afraid we might want different things and be headed in different life directions."

"Like what do you mean?"

"Like he might want kids and I'm pretty sure I don't, and like he wants answers about commitment and I'm afraid to give them to him because of that and also because I'm just getting out of a really scary, abusive relationship and I'm not in the best shape emotionally."

"Well, does he treat you right?"

"Yeah, the best. Like I've never been treated before."

"And did he pressure you and tell you that he wouldn't stay with you if you didn't commit to having kids and getting married and everything else you're afraid to do?"

"No, just the opposite. He wants me to stay with him and wait around for years and be with him and love him and just hope he doesn't change his mind."

John scowled at her in a mocking fashion and then laughed. "Gabby, sounds like you're looking for ways to sabotage your own true happiness. This guy is bending over backwards to win you and keep you and all you're doing is looking for ways he's going to hurt you someday way in the future. How can anyone reasonably live their life that way? I mean, do you walk around each day saying goodbye to all your friends like it's your last time seeing them just in case you get hit by a bus that day? Nobody can control every variable in life. All we can do is be happy now. Sounds like that's what he wants to give you – happiness now. Why not just accept his offer to be happy now?"

Gabby sighed and said "Yeah, I know I sound nuts. I think if I hadn't been through what I went through with this psychopath at college in my last relationship, I wouldn't be so afraid for my own heart, but it's not just about me. I'm worried about Micky's heart, too. I can't give him everything. I don't want kids. I'm pretty damn sure I never will. And there's a small part of him that thinks maybe he does, even though he's also said that there are many good reasons for both of us not to have kids. I don't want to ruin his life. What if he wastes years with me and wakes up one day and realizes he's missed out on something hugely important to him?"

John mulled this one and said "Gabby, don't you know that guys can have kids until they drop dead? It's not like Micky's only got a certain window of fertility like a woman does. And yeah, he wouldn't want to be eighty at his kid's high school graduation, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't take him that long to figure things out. And since you're not going to have kids, it's not like it would be too late for you to go find yourself another guy who's right for you. And what _are_ you going to do about dating? Are you going to start every date with a contract that the guy has to sign that says he can't buy you a drink or give you a kiss if he thinks there's an outside chance he might want to have a baby boy to carry on the family name? Where does that leave you? People grow, they change, their priorities shift. He might value his love for you far above anything else, and if he doesn't, I'm willing to bet he'll let you know by dumping your ass in time to get a family started before he's using a walker to get around."

Gabby started to laugh. "You're just funnin' me now, John, but there's a lot of sense in what you say, and of course I've thought about a lot of this myself and Micky and I have even talked about some of this ourselves."

"But you still don't trust him, trust what you have?"

"Well, no. I guess not."

"Then you better prepare to be miserable and lonely, because if you can't find happiness with a great guy like Micky, you aren't going to find it anywhere else. Don't sabotage yourself, Gabby. Go make a life with him, whatever that is, for however long it lasts. You both deserve to be happy. I'm rooting for you guys."

The music had stopped now and they were just standing there talking. John's field of vision shifted and he started to grin. He lifted his head and extended his hand. "Hey, Micky, I'm John. Do you remember me from the outfield at the softball game and the non-fiction section at Simpsons?"

Micky approached the two and removed the wary, suspicious look on his face when he realized that Gabby wasn't flirting with another guy but catching up with an old friend. "Yeah, hi, John. I'm glad you could be here. How are things at the store?"

"Oh, I'm not there anymore. I quit in protest as soon as I heard what happened to you guys. I thought the way Paul treated Gabby was horrible and a few of us resigned the next day and sent a letter to the owners letting them know why we left. We're working for Crownenshield's now. Not as wide a selection of non-fiction at the moment, but I'm helping them get up to speed and we're ordering some better stock, particularly on current events like the war and politics, like the topics that interest Gabby so much."

"Wow, John, that's really swell of you to have stood up for us like that. Thank you for standing on principle. You two had a chance to catch up?"

John smiled and said "Yeah, Gabby's been telling me what a dope she is when it comes to certain areas of life and I've been setting her straight about a few things. I hope we've got things clear now, right Gabby?"

"Yeah, John. I got the message loud and clear. Thanks for giving me the benefit of your perspective and wisdom. I appreciate your friendship. It was good to see you."

"Good to see you both. Now I need to go find me a single woman who really gets me and is worth spending my time with. They're not easy to come by and when you find one, you gotta do whatever it takes to hang on to her, right Micky?"

Micky looked bewildered at first and then, comprehending his coded message, grinned slyly. "Yep, you know it, John. Exactly true."

John shook Micky's hand, gave Gabby a hug, and took off in search of another dance partner.

Micky and Gabby looked at each other shyly and then Micky said "Gabriella, I have a little time before I go back on stage. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure, Micky, that would be nice. Thank you."

He took her hand and they walked over to the bar. He ordered her usual, she noted, breaking character. 

He gave a swipe to his brow and said "Phew, for a minute there, I thought another guy had moved in on my date! I was a little worried so I came over to investigate."

"No, he's a friend who was giving me some words of wisdom about how to handle myself on this date with you. He gave me some good solid advice that I intend to follow. I think you'll be pleased. I think we both will."

"That sounds fine, Gabriella. I'm feeling optimistic about things. How about you?"

"Cautiously so, Micky. Like I said before, I haven't given up on love."

"I'm glad. Though I think you're getting a bit ahead of yourself there. It sounds like you're thinking you're going to get me to do things on the first date that I don't think nice boys do." He gave his goofy grin.

"Yeah, you're right, Micky. I was being glib and insincere and you saw right through me."

Micky bent over double laughing at her for quoting back to him verbatim his apology from their first encounter. "Touché, Gabriella. Well played." 

He handed her a drink and led her back to her friends and Robert. They all swapped greetings and chatted for a bit, then he bade her adieu and headed back up to the stage for the second set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	48. Chapter 48

When the last song was played, Gabby's stomach was fluttering and roiling with nerves. She didn't know what to do with herself. She saw the usual crush of groupies approaching the stage and this time she didn't feel like her position was assured. Not only that, but she didn't know where she and Micky were going for their "date," and she wasn't at all sure whether she wanted to end up in a situation where they would have to go home together and sleep in the same bed, since that seemed incongruous with the notion of going out on a first date which seemed to denote starting their relationship from scratch. Another part of her brain was preoccupied with the intriguing question of whether Lynda and Robert would leave for a date of their own, or join the group for an outing, or whether everyone would scatter and retire for separate after-dates of their own. She couldn't remember a more uncomfortable, less certain situation following a gig since they met the Monkees. She decided to just wait and see what unfolded. She stood a bit apart from her friends and waited for Micky to take the lead, watching to see how he'd handle the usual crush of groupies and how he'd approach her.

If she had any doubts about his intentions towards the groupies, she needn't have. Micky kept his eyes strictly on the work in front of him, breaking down the instruments and bringing them out to the Monkeemobile. He didn't give a single groupie a look or an autograph or a word of chat. They were absolutely invisible to him. He chatted with his bandmates and occasionally shook hands and chatted with male members of the audience who wanted to congratulate him for a good show, but other than that he was all business.

When the guys were done loading the instruments up, they came to fetch their girls and everyone, including Lynda and Robert, sauntered out into the parking lot. Micky suggested that they go to Ed's and that was that. No fuss, no debate. Gabby wondered if he had already discussed it with the guys and they had supported his decision in solidarity. Everyone looked next to Lynda and Robert to see what their move would be and Robert asked if they minded if he joined them. Davy stepped up and said "Not at all, mate, come along," and again, that was that. Then Gabby knew there had indeed been prior coordination, and she silently praised the Monkees for their class and consideration for each other and the girls. They were truly a family of friends and lovers. She was very grateful. Now she could see how things went with Micky and not be forced to go home with him or have him go home with her, and Lynda and Robert would be seamlessly incorporated into the group, and Davy and Lynda could transition into being friends, and all was well, or as well as it could be considering that there were several potential time bombs about to go off (such as Wendy's possible pregnancy, the wildcard of whether Peter and Dawn might elope, the possibility that she and Micky might not make it as a couple after all, or that their stalkers might continue to terrorize them).

They arrived at Ed's and Gabby couldn't help looking over her shoulder and check to see whether they had been followed by any groupies or Simpsons employees, but she was relieved to see no one apparently gawking or spying on them. Micky noticed her scanning the room and silently nodded at her encouragingly in comprehension of her concerns. 

As usual, the group sorted itself out into two booths. Micky and Gabby sat with Lynda and Robert and Davy joined them, and interesting choice for him to make but one that Gabby approved of. She could tell that Robert and Davy were well aware of the score and that they had tacitly decided not to see each other as rivals but rather as one man who cared for Lynda passing the baton to the next man who aspired to do the same. The conversation picked up where it had left off between the guys, touching on Davy's near miss with the draft board and his drastic measures taken to avoid conscription. Robert marveled at Davy's fortitude and courage and gave him sincere compliments and congratulations for eking out a victory over the military machine. Then talk turned to the war in general and Micky's loss of his cousin in particular, and Gabby joined in the conversation and mentioned her plans for planning a rally to greet the President when he came to town the following month. 

Lynda was content to sit back for this conversation and observe and listen. She wanted to size Robert up, not only to hear more about him as a person and his opinions and knowledge on this and other topics, but to see how he got along with her friends. This was of crucial importance to her. If he could fit in with them, then he could have a place in her life. She valued them above all else, as they had formed the core of her support system while she was settling in to her new adopted home. She was pleased to see that Robert seemed to be very much at ease, perhaps in part because he already knew Gabby very well and Micky somewhat well for having worked with him for a short period of time. She was also very proud of the way Davy was comporting himself. She glanced at him and their eyes met briefly. As usual, he tried to mesmerize her with those deep, chocolate orbs and his dark, expressive eyebrows. She gave him a warm smile and a small wink and then turned to Robert and decided now to join the conversation, asking him what he thought of the gig and what was his favorite tune. She felt free to begin the next chapter of her life.

Micky asked Gabby if she would come over to the jukebox and help him pick out some songs. She smiled at the inside joke and smooth move on Micky's part and took his hand as he offered it to her to help her slide out of the booth. They walked over to the jukebox and as they bent over it examining the selections, Micky gently put his hand on the small of her back. Rockets of electricity zinged up her back and she gave a sharp intake of breath. He continued to focus his gaze on the records, but he had a broad smile on his face. 

"What would you like, Gabriella? Tell me."

"That's a very ambiguous question, Micky. It reminds me of other times I've been asked that question."

"And how does it make you feel when I ask you that?"

"A bit wobbly in the knees, if I'm honest. It feels a bit indecent for a first date, given the context the last few times I've heard that question."

Micky's smile turned a bit wolfish and more ungoverned but he kept his eyes on the jukebox.

"Are you going to answer the question?"

"No, I don't think so. I think I'll just let it hang in midair and enjoy the crackling buzz of electricity it's causing."

"That's how it was the night I met you. You let things hang in the air. You only told me your name and then you let it hang there. You made me ask for what I wanted. I was amazed. No woman ever did that to me, or not at that point anymore. You just said 'I'm Gabriella' and that was it. I had to come get you, to pursue you, to ask for what I wanted, and then you told me no. And then you told me no again and again without actually saying the word no. But I knew the answer was no."

Now Micky turned to face Gabby and appraised her with an open countenance and pleading eyes. "Gabby, when will you give me your answer this time? I'll wait for it and work for it and do whatever it takes, but I need to have it. And don't think I'll take no for an answer any more than I did last time unless you tell me with a stone cold sober face that you never want to see me again because that's the only way I can live without you. When will you tell me what you want and whether it includes me?"

"Micky, I already told you what I want in that miserable, lukewarm bathtub, and you told me it wasn't enough for you. And I told you in the car ride back up to L.A. that I understood why you said what you said and that I had made my peace with it and that I still love you. I don't understand why you insist on us going back to square one. It's not necessary. Can't you see that I've already forgiven you and moved past the hurt? 

"I told John all about you and me when we were dancing. I just blurted it all out. He told me that I needed to stop sabotaging my own happiness by trying to control all variables in this love equation. He said all I can count on is being happy now, and that you want to make me happy now, and that I should accept that offer. And if your priorities change and you're no longer happy with me and how things are, you'll let me know and dump my ass and we'll both move on and find other people to be happy with, but we'll have had that time together to be happy. He said we both deserve to be happy, for however long and in whatever form it takes.

"Wendy told me you're not Nick and I have to stop worrying that you're trying to pull the same mind games on me that he did. You told me the same thing, and I told you I'm willing to believe that. So I'm doing my best to put my fears behind me as well. But I guess I'm still a bit skittish and worried like I was before, and you're still as coltish and overeager and clumsy as you were before. Those things haven't changed, but we both have a lot more information about each other than we did before, and we're communicating more openly about where we don't sync up. 

"Like we've always said, communication is key. It was brutal the way we did it and I wish it hadn't gone down that way, but it's done and it will never have to be done that way again. We can do it more kindly now, more lovingly. If you're getting ready to lay something heavy on me, you don't have to do it in a tub full of lukewarm water and admit you're a fuckin' liar and hypocrite. You can just tell me you want something I can't give you and I'll let you go. And now I don't have to go around feeling like a fraud and a sneak who's leading you on, because you know where I stand and where my insecurities lie. I'm giving you a chance to change my mind, but I'm telling you I doubt you'll succeed. Like you said, neither one of us is 100 percent firm on our position, and we'll stay open to all possibilities. We haven't finished growing up and that's why women my age don't get their tubes tied and men your age don't move in with their girlfriends, because they can't afford it. 

"So you've got my answer. Is that fulsome and comprehensive enough for you?"

Micky's eyes widened in amazement. He was, as Davy would say, gobsmacked. He had been sure Gabby was going to make him do penance for a very long time, and, like in the game of Monopoly, send him to jail and do not pass go, do not collect $200. He had been prepared to dwell in the doghouse for as long as it took and now she was telling him it wasn't necessary. Still, he could tell she had reservations and ambivalence by the way she wouldn't allow him to touch her.

"So tell me what you're holding back. What don't I know about the conditions of this truce? When I tried to hug you tonight, you seized up and shrank away from my touch. In the car this afternoon, I felt like I didn't dare touch you. I can tell you didn't want to end up in a situation tonight where we'll be sleeping in the same bed. I had to ask your permission to touch you this morning because you were in such shock and seemed to be having a panic attack or freakout or something. What can I do to heal that breach?"

Gabby sighed and shivered. "It's true, Micky, I didn't want you to touch me, and I don't want to sleep with you tonight. I want to have some physical space between us for a couple of days. Maybe for the weekend. You've always said that the only way you want to be physical with me is for me to be asking for it, even begging for it, to truly consent to it. Well my body is saying things that my head and heart don't understand. When you touched my back a few minutes ago, it made me feel like a jolt of electricity was going through me because I didn't have time to overthink it. That was instinct and it made me feel great. But whenever I have time to think about it, I do seize up. It's obviously trauma that's been unearthed, and I really don't know what that's all about, and I'd like some time to let it sort itself out and think about it. So can you please let me figure that piece out before we get intimate or even touchy feely again? I know that's going to be painful for you, but I'm fairly certain it's not really about you, that it's about me. And if it is about you, then it's better that I don't force the issue and freak out on you. That will only cause you more pain."

Micky's face fell and he asked with some fear and even panic showing. "Does that mean you won't come to tomorrow's gig? That you won't still be my everything? That you can't support me? I hate to put the heavy on you, Gabby, but I need you. I don't need sex from you, but I need you emotionally. Can you still be there for me?"

She smiled with true appreciation for a man who cared more about love and support than sex. "Of course, Micky. I'll be there for you tomorrow night. I said I'd be there for you at all your gigs, and I'll be there. It's not an obligation, it's my pleasure to support you because it means so much to me that you need me and want me there. That hasn't changed. You see? We're still one."

Micky started to cry and sobbed "Thank you, Gabby. Is it okay if I hug you? Or will that be too painful for you?"

"No, Micky, I think that would be okay. Let's try that and see how it feels."

He reached for her carefully and delicately put his arms around her arms, leaving plenty of room between their bodies. She patted him on the back. Then he buried his head into her neck and continued to weep. Now she stroked his curly hair and petted his head and said "Shhhh, Micky, it's okay. You're okay. We'll get through this."

"I hope so, Gabby. You – you – you really are my everything," he stammered through his tears.

"Believe me when I say, Micky, that you and I are one. I only want you to be happy. I'd sacrifice my own happiness for you if you'd let me, but you won't. So you're going to force me to be happy with you. How lucky can a girl get, hmmm?" 

She poked him in the cheek and tried to coax a smile out of him. He laughed and used the heels of his hands to wipe away his tears. She grabbed the napkin dispenser from a nearby table and offered it to him, and he cleaned off the rest of the evidence of his distress. Then when he was ready, they walked back to the table and rejoined the others, who were waiting to leave. Everyone realized something really heavy was going down and didn't want to intervene, so they were waiting patiently for things to shake out. They were relieved to see Gabby and Micky wearing watery smiles as they returned to the booths.

For once, the guys all decided to return to the Pad and the girls all took off in their car for their homes. Robert caught a ride with the guys back to the club to pick up his car. Before he did, though, he swapped numbers with Lynda and promised to give her a call. He gave her a peck on the cheek and wished her and the other girls goodnight. Micky asked Gabby for another hug goodbye and received the same type as before by the jukebox – tentative, asexual and fragile. It broke his heart but he cherished it nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	49. Chapter 49

Micky woke up the next morning feeling like he had a hangover, even though he'd had nothing alcoholic to drink the night before. He realized it was an emotional hangover. His heart was worn out with emotion, fear and uncertainty about where his relationship with Gabby was headed. Even though he felt they had re-established their emotional connection and come to a meeting of the minds on picking up where they left off and continuing on with their journey together, the fact that he could not physically touch her even to the extent of hugging her or holding her hand terrified him. Not because he was preoccupied by or centered on the sexual nature of their relationship, but because it seemed to him to represent a very real threat or barrier to the emotional and spiritual closeness they shared.

Physical intimacy between them had been a gradual process, like it had never been with any of his encounters with women since he was a kid in high school, cycling through the "bases" like Peter had with Dawn on his journey to losing his virginity with her. With the groupies, there was no buildup, no anticipation, no in between. It was just let's get naked and go right to a homerun and fuck. With Gabby, he had taken his time. He had purposefully slowed down the process and savored every bit of it, introducing himself to her in a deliberate, thoughtful way calibrated to incorporate emotion and meaning into the process. There was no rush to the finish line, nor a timetable to be met. It had taken them weeks what he had done in minutes with other women he had barely known. He recalled with shame his _faux pas_ of not even remembering Sandra's name after he had had sex with her. With Gabby, there was no having sex, there was only making love. It was a spiritual experience laden with meaning and had been an integral part of their becoming true lovers, of falling in love with each other.

Being foreclosed from the physical aspect of reaching out to Gabby, not being able to touch her at all without causing her distress, be it simply placing his hand on hers or an arm around her shoulder or a hug, never mind making love to her, wounded him and made him feel like a half-dead man. He wasn't missing sex, he was missing love. He missed her touch – the way she'd run her hands through his curls, or mold her body to his as they sat next to each other, or laid her hand on his to make a point as they conversed, or fell into his arms to seek comfort or grant it. He didn't think he could survive for long without this part of their relationship. It couldn't all be cerebral for him. He was a sensual being. It wasn't about his dick, it was about his heart and all his other body parts. He was like a dog needing a good petting. A pug, he mused, who needed to climb into her lap and contort itself so that it could maximize the angles where it could get all the best scratches.

He sent up a prayer to the only God he remotely believed in, the God of Music, and asked for strength and fortitude to get through this test he was being presented with, to give Gabby the room she needed to process and heal. What he heard back was "Write your song, channel your energy into your music, and take this time for yourself. It's a gift you're being given if you would but know it." Micky sat up in bed, startled to actually receive feedback and inspiration from a prayer, and he knew what he must do.

He bounded out of bed, threw on some clothes and slid down the bannister. He was in search of Davy, whom he found sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea and reading the newspaper.

"Davy, today's our day. Today we start working on our song. Are you up for it?"

Davy stared up at Micky with some wonder. Usually Micky was a half-slumbering zombie when he made his way downstairs, and it took coffee and his disgusting cereal and orange juice concoction to revive him into coherent speech.

"Sure, mate, I'm ready. Let's get cracking."

* * *

When Micky greeted Gabby at the gig that night, he had a big grin on his face. She was startled but pleased and in fact elated, despite the fact that she herself still felt shitty but tentatively hopeful. She had spent the day moping around, missing Micky like a limb had been amputated, and she berated herself repeatedly for being such a complicated, high-maintenance head case. She had made no significant progress on figuring out why she felt the way she did about him touching her, she only knew that she needed some separation, but she did make a start on addressing the issue head on.

She had taken up her old journal that she had stopped writing in when the pain and trauma from her relationship with Nick had become too much for her to face. She had been a lifelong journal keeper and had mostly documented the relationship. But when she had first left him and had gone back to her writings to try to find answers as to why she had allowed him to abuse her, she was startled to find that she had omitted from her writings any mention of the truly most horrifying abuses, including his sodomizing her and the threesome he forced her into. She supposed she must have been either too traumatized to write about it, or was in such denial that she couldn't acknowledge that these things had actually happened, or maybe even was just so ashamed of them she couldn't bring herself to commit them to pen and paper, and she questioned whether she even played an active part in bringing them upon herself. For whatever reason, however, those events were not documented and she began to doubt her memory and sanity, and for a while she wondered whether they had even really happened. That's when she stopped journaling altogether. What had once been a comforting outlet and a way for her to process her feelings and sort out her priorities and reacquaint herself with reality and her own values had become a record of herself as the ultimate unreliable narrator, an eyewitness to her own abuse and victimization. It repelled her and she couldn't trust or confide in her journal anymore. Until now. She was so desperate for an outlet that she took up her pen again and started with a fresh, clean journal.

For Gabby, journaling had always been something of a two-way dialogue between herself and her God or maybe just her own more wise intuition. She would begin by writing about her troubles, worries, doubts, fears, concerns, ideas or hopes, and sooner or later, the words that poured out on the page would become unfamiliarly wise and insightful. She felt like those words were not her own, but came from another source, like maybe God or the universe or the part of her that could be called intuition or her better judgment. In any case, eventually she would find her footing and usually end up at a solution to her problem and find a clearer path to follow. Even in her darkest days with Nick, her journal held pages of clarity of thought, perception about the true nature of her situation, and proclamations of doing the next right thing. She realized in hindsight that the problem with executing those action steps was that she underestimated her ability to fight off his sociopathic deviltry. She was out of her league and no amount of her best judgment was a match for his sick, twisted manipulation, until he stepped way over the line and it woke her out of her nightmare. It so shocked her conscience that she found the clarity and courage to see that the only answer was to leave him immediately.

Now Gabby was searching for clarity and courage again. She had a pretty good idea that what she was feeling right now about being in physical contact with Micky had nothing to do with him. Her fears and visceral revulsion most likely had to do with echoes of the past and her relationship with Nick. So after she read through the old journal and familiarized herself with the contrast between her previous reality and her present situation, she took up her pen and began to write out all of her feelings about Micky and just dump her fears and thoughts out onto the page. She waited for the writing to arrange itself into something more coherent than the stream of consciousness garbage that was pouring from her pen, and as it had in the past, that wisdom and clarity began to emerge. It wasn't fully formed or even that clear, but it encouraged her to keep on writing and seeking her truth. So that's where she left it before she got ready to leave for that night's gig. She knew there was more to write and more to process, but she felt she had made a start on things.

Micky said "Hey, Gabby, thanks so much for being here. It means the world to me."

"Sure, Micky. There's no place I'd rather be."

They stood there awkwardly, limbs in places they normally would not be, by their sides, wondering what to do with them. Gabby offered "Want a hug?"

Micky gave a relieved smile and responded "That would make me so happy," and he approached her carefully, as he did the night before, and gave her the same type of gentle, tentative embrace they had shared the night before. She giggled and Micky asked her what she was laughing about.

"Oh, this hug. It reminds me of the hugs my big sister used to give me when we were growing up. She really couldn't stand me. She thought I was a pest and didn't want to have anything to do with me, plus she's not really a hugger, so if she was ever forced to give me a hug, like if we got in a fight and my mom would try to get us to make up, she'd lean in with her ass out to keep plenty of room between us and then put her arms around me barely touching me, and give me a tap, tap, tap on my back and then back away like I was infected with germs."

Micky frowned a bit and wondered whether he was fielding criticism, but when Gabby started to roar with laughter at the memory, and imitated her sister's ridiculous hug with him, he joined her laughter and enjoyed her amusement.

"Well, when you're ready for a Micky type hug, I'm ready to supply it."

"Thanks, Micky. I'll let you know when I'm feeling better and ready." She pulled back and appraised the look on his face, which was back to being hopeful and optimistic. "You look less miserable than last night. Did you have a good day?"

"Actually, I did have a good day, though I'm still miserable, don't doubt that for a minute. But I made good use of the time apart from you. I said a prayer and got the inspiration that this time is meant to be used for something more than me moping around. So Davy and I got started on writing a song together. It's something special, and it's inspired by you."

Gabby was impressed by Micky's positive attitude and can-do approach to such a terrible situation he found himself in. "Wow, Micky, maybe there's a more cosmic destiny ruling both our lives. I did some soul searching myself today, and some writing, which I haven't done in a long time, and I started to make sense of some things that really needed addressing about the trauma I've been suffering. I've got more work to do, but I feel good about the beginning I've made. Maybe that's what this is all about. Maybe we both have things we need to be doing that don't involve each other, and we need to listen to the call to arms on that. Maybe we were getting so wrapped up in each other that we were ignoring ourselves and our separate priorities. I think maybe I'd like to see this as more of a spiritually healing meditative pause than a punitive retreat from each other. How does that strike you?"

Micky tilted his head, lost in thought, and said "You know, I think you may be on to something, Gabby. We have been wrapped up in each other completely lately, and I've been neglecting this song I've been wanting to write, and you've got healing you need to do that you obviously can't do when I'm bearing down on top of you. Something, some outside force in the universe, is separating us and telling us to take a break and channel our energies into our separate endeavors. As long as you aren't trying to tell me goodbye or say that you don't still love and support me, I think I could change how I feel about this break from physical contact and being together constantly. But you said it would only be for a couple of days. Does that still hold or are we changing that boundary?"

"How about if we check in with each other on Monday and see how we feel? If you're on a roll with your song, maybe you're going to want some space for yourself to just stay at the Pad with Davy and stick with it. And maybe I'm going to want to keep writing in my journal and cogitating. I also think I need to start job hunting on Monday, and depending on how we both feel, maybe we'll get together and talk about it or maybe we'll just talk about it on the phone. Let's play it by ear. Let's see where we're both at. I think we're both on to something really important in our lives, and we need to support each other. And I don't think that necessarily means that we need to be in the same room to do that. What do you say?"

"Yeah, I think you're probably right about that. But Gabby, I'm yearning for you. I just want to put that out there. Not to make love to you, though of course that's always in the background. But I miss your touch. Your comforting touch, your playful touch, your steadying touch, your celebratory touch. And knowing I can't have it is messing with my head. So don't be surprised if I'm going to want some of that really soon, even if I can't have anything else for a while. I'm okay with only getting that type of touch. We can slow things down like we did at the beginning. You know that sex and fooling around is not the center of my focus. But your touch – it's part of our love and I can't live without it. I wouldn't be being honest if I didn't tell you that."

"Thank you for always being honest with me, Micky. You always have been and it's one of the reasons why I love and trust you. And even though you won't understand it and it doesn't make sense, I want you to know that I miss your touch as well. There's just something inside of me that's throwing up barriers and caution flags right now. There's work that I must do that I can't avoid any longer. I have to put these fears to bed once and for all. I can't wait until I can afford a therapist. I've gone back to my journaling and I'm writing about it and I'm praying and I'm processing and getting feedback about my prayers through my writing. It's helping me get all that crap out of my system and figure out how to move forward. This isn't going to be a forever thing. I just need some more time."

"Okay, well if you trust me, then how can I not trust you? You have my heart, Gabriella, and you have my trust. And I have part of a song written, and you have pages in a journal that weren't written before you woke up this morning. So we're both extremely fortunate and better off than we were yesterday and closer to our heart's desire. Right?"

"Right. Well said. I love your special brand of optimism, Micky. It lifts me up."

"I love you, Gabby. You are my everything."

"I love you, Micky. And even when we're not physically touching each other, we are still one. I feel you in my heart and soul. You're still there, always inside me and a part of me. I hope you'll find me inside of you as well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	50. Chapter 50

Monday dawned and Gabby woke abruptly to a noise that to her ears sounded like a barn owl screeching. She bolted upright in her bed and ran towards its source, which was the bathroom, and pushed the door open. Wendy was sitting on the toilet, screaming and crying and rocking and pumping her fists. When she spotted Gabby, she quickly wiped herself, arranged her clothes and then threw herself into Gabby's arms and led her on a tango into the living room, whooping and yipping like a mad woman.

"Wendy, what the fuck is up? What are you yelling about? Have you totally flipped your lid?"

Wendy shouted with glee "I'm not preggers! I've got blood! We've got menstrual flow! Aunt Flo has come to town for her unwelcome monthly visit! 'The curse is come upon me cried the Lady of Shalott!' The crimson tide is washing up on the beach! I'm on the rag!"

"Daaaaaaawn! Get out heeeeere!" Gabby screamed.

Dawn came rushing out of her room with such a startled fright that she thought the A-bomb had dropped and there was an evacuation taking place. She started babbling about the fuckin' Soviets finally dropping the big one and where were they gonna take cover and dammit, was pool water potable and how much canned goods did they have to live off of and why hadn't they been more prepared for the inevitable? 

"Dawn, don't be ridiculous. Listen to Wendy. Wendy, tell Dawn your news."

Wendy launched herself at Dawn and said "Dawn, I'm not pregnant. I won't be bringing down the House of Monkee after all."

Dawn, now fully awake and _compos mentis_ , glared at Wendy and said "Good. Now you can go make me some fuckin' breakfast to do penance for making me miss the rest of the sleep I had coming to me, plus to make up for all the worry and upset you caused this weekend." 

Wendy's lip trembled at what she felt was very ungracious and insensitive treatment by Dawn. She was used to being coddled and handled with kid gloves by Gabby, who knew what an overly sensitive, insecure hothouse flower she was. Dawn walked to the kitchen table and sat down with her arms crossed and brows furrowed while she waited for Wendy to march herself to the kitchen and get moving with breakfast. Quietly, with no more fanfare or fight in her, Wendy did as she was told and started to prepare coffee.

Dawn crept up quietly behind Wendy, slipped her arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze, whispering into her ear "I'm so happy for you, girl. Please try to take better care of yourself. We all need you and depend on you to do the right thing for yourself and Mike and we want to see you both happy." Then she kissed her on the cheek and said "Now get crackin' on my breakfast, Missy."

Wendy had leaned back into Dawn's hug and then smiled at Dawn's saucy drill sergeant routine. She was the perfect counterpoint to Gabby, whom she knew was always going to be too soft on her in some respects because of their longstanding friendship and sometimes too hard on her because of their long record of Gabby having to pull Wendy out of the soup on account of her history of bad judgment and ill-considered decisions blowing up in her face. She knew she could trust Dawn to give it to her straight without fear or favor, and valued her objectivity even if sometimes it came across like a hammer where Gabby would have opted for a scalpel. 

Wendy asked "Should we take the day to celebrate, gals?"

Gabby shook her head in the negative. "No, I really need to get my ass in gear. I'm going to go down to the offices of that newspaper _Open City_ to see if I can talk them into giving me a job. And then I want to go over to UCLA to connect with their student leaders. I made some calls to the folks up at Berkeley to see what, if anything, is being done down here in L.A. to organize a rally for the day the President comes to town next month, and they said that's where it's at. I've got to get my life started. It's time."

Dawn also declined, explaining that Steven was taking off on a camping trip and needed her to mind the store for a couple of days. So Wendy was on her own. Gabby asked her whether she was going to tell Mike about her pregnancy scare. 

"Fuck no! I don't feel like I have to tell him every little thing. Do I?" She started that sentence out in her usual declarative maverick defiance and ended it up on a more equivocal note, seeking guidance from her much more experienced and wiser friends.

They talked it over and agreed that Mike didn't _need_ to know about it, but that if Gabby wanted to have a truly open and trusting relationship with Mike, he probably _should_ know that Gabby wasn't one hundred percent solidly reliable on taking her birth control and they ought to discuss adding condoms to their birth control arsenal until she got more used to the routine of taking the pill every day on a strict schedule. Not to mention the fact that Mike might be desirous of being of comfort to Wendy, who had been through hell lately and had shouldered the burden all on her own, when it really takes two to make a baby, even an oops baby. Wendy said she'd think it over.

* * *

Gabby entered the offices of _Open City_ to meet with the publisher, John Bryan, whom her friend William, a subeditor, had arranged for her to meet. William had been a friend of Gabby's at UC Berkeley, and had previously worked on the _Berkeley Barb_ , another weekly underground newspaper in the same vein of _Open City_ , which had covered several of the anti-war events organized by the Vietnam Day Committee that Gabby had helped coordinate. Mr. Bryan was intrigued by Gabby's political pedigree and her passion for the anti-war cause. William had also told him that Gabby had insider access to the upcoming Monterey Pop Festival, an event that he desperately wanted _Open City_ to cover extensively. These credentials were enough to score Gabby the interview. Now she would just need to wow him with her personality, drive and commitment to the cause, not to mention the writing samples she had tucked into a briefcase she brought along.

When she left the offices of _Open City_ , she had been hired to cover the Festival as a freelance gig for which she would be paid a significant sum as a special feature to the paper since the story was such a valuable commodity with backstage access. She would also earn a regular salary and be assigned to the political beat. She would have to sniff out political stories and even instigate them if need be. Mr. Bryan also agreed to let her take a shot at publishing a column called _The Shrew_ , which would be her take on feminist issues. The paper already had an idiosyncratic columnist named Charles Bukowski whose column, called _The Dirty Old Man_ , consisted of ramblings on the events of his own debauched life's adventures, so Mr. Bryan agreed with Gabby's assertion that this would balance things out.

Not satisfied with the progress she had made, she decided to get a jump on her first political story by following up on a lead she had gained the night before by contacting a friend of hers from the Vietnam Day Committee up at Berkeley. He told her that the student government at UCLA was in need of a mentor in getting organized in the anti-war movement, and suggested she drop by the student government offices to see what, if any, progress the student leaders had made with regard to the upcoming presidential visit. Gabby drove over to the campus and asked around until she found the student union and the office which housed the student government.

She entered a small, dingy office littered with coffee cups, cigarette butts, and boxes of flyers for an upcoming concert the student government was hosting. A group of a few students was lounging around shooting the breeze in a desultory fashion. Lingering in the doorway, not wishing to enter their turf without an explicit invitation, Gabby introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Gabby Levitt. I'm a recent graduate from UC Berkeley and a former student leader like yourselves. I was a lieutenant in the Vietnam Day Committee and I'm looking to organize a protest for next month when President Johnson is in town for a fundraiser. I want to let him know how we feel about his dirty, immoral, pointless war. I heard from the folks up at Berkeley y'all are active on the issue and might want to collaborate with an outside leader. Can I be of help and would you be willing to pair up with me? I'm looking to find a group to coordinate with now that I've moved back to L.A."

A young woman wearing dark horn-rimmed glasses, khaki pants and black tank top stood up and extended her hand to Gabby, introducing herself. "I'm Debbie Majors and I'm the Vice President of Student Affairs. Our president is out on the quad getting stoned right now," she rolled her eyes with disgust, "so I'm holding down the fort. Welcome to UCLA. Have a sit down and let's see what you have in mind and whether we can work together." Debbie introduced Gabby to the rest of the students in the office.

They got down to business to discuss what the students had done so far and what Gabby felt needed to be done. The students had not contemplated a large action, nor the possibility of coordinating with other groups at universities and organizations around the city, both of which Gabby had in mind. Gabby told them about her new job at the newspaper and her now expanded networking possibilities, plus her already existing contacts in the anti-war community, and suggested that they think much bigger in terms of the size of the rally and contacting the press about it in advance. They spent about two hours sketching out a broad outline and agreed to meet twice weekly to coordinate and divide up tasks to be done. They finished by filling in a calendar laying out a timeline for what needed to get done by what date, and realized that there was a lot to do with not a lot of time to do it.

"Whoooo, Gabby, it looks like you showed up just in time!" Debbie exclaimed. Gabby shook her head and said "Nah, to me it looks like I found you guys just in the nick of time!" She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down her name and home phone number, as well as her contact information at the newspaper. She asked for the students to swap their info with her as well. After they all had a way to stay in touch, she shook everyone's hands and they promised to meet again on Thursday, this time with a sober student government president present and accounted for.

When she got back home, she couldn't wait to share her news with Micky. She rang him up and Peter answered the phone. "Oh hey, Gabby. Good to hear your voice. How are you?"

"Just fine, Peter, thanks," Gabby fidgeted. She wanted to speak with her man _right now_. "Can I speak with Micky?"

"Sorry, he's not here right now. He and Davy are down on the beach, bashing away at this song they're working on. They refuse to work on it in the house because they don't want me or Michael horning on it until they're ready for us to hear it. Can I let him know you called?"

"Sure Pete, thanks. See you later."

"I hope so, Gabby. I miss seeing you around."

Gabby hung up the phone and took a moment to reflect on how sweet Peter was and how he was very guilelessly conveying the message to her that he hoped she and Micky could pull together and survive the bump in the road they had hit. Her next thought was one of frustration that she couldn't have immediate gratification to spill all her good news to Micky. But then she remembered what they had discussed, about how they both seemed to have received spiritual or intuitive guidance that some time apart would produce good things and personal growth, and she realized that they both were benefitting in exactly that manner. So she decided to roll with it and picked up her journal and started to write.

An hour later, she let her pen fall silent and she read over what she had written. Then she wrote some more. Then she went back to read what she had written the day before and wrote some more. Things started falling into place. The voice on the page started sounding like the voice in her head, and she felt like she had decluttered her brain and soul and dumped a lot of fear and confusion onto the page and that it could stay there. She didn't feel tempted to pick it back up again. She felt ready to relinquish it and to walk away from her past baggage with Nick. 

She knew that her conscious mind was on board. Whether her subconscious mind was going to accept the clearing of the decks was only going to manifest itself one way. She had to reach out to Micky and try to be intimate with him again and see how things went. She had to let him all the way back in. She was surprised to find that she wasn't scared or intimidated by this prospect, but rather wanted to embrace it and get it out of the way and move on with their lives. So she felt even more frustrated that Micky wasn't available and that she didn't know when she would be seeing him next. She smiled to herself when she thought back to when he had told her that he only wanted to be intimate with her if she was asking for it, begging for it, truly consenting to it. Now she felt that ants in her pants feeling. She took this as a positive sign. 

The phone finally rang around 9:30 p.m. and it was Micky. He apologized for calling so late. "I would have called earlier, but Davy and I were out on the beach, working on our song, and then we walked down to a bar that serves food and caught a bite and just talked and talked. He seems to really need my friendship right now, so I wanted to be there for him. I want to thank you for this time you've given me. I'm really making the most of it, and it feels like for the most part, only positive things are coming out of it. There's just that little itch I can't scratch."

"I feel the same way, Micky. I got so much accomplished today, and I have so much to share with you. And to be honest, I feel very itchy myself. Verrrrry itchy. Want to get together tomorrow?"

Micky was silent for a moment, wondering if she was driving at what he hoped she was. "Gabriella, can you be clear about what you want from me? It would really help if I didn't misunderstand what you're saying and since we're talking on the phone and I can't see your eyes, I can only go by what you sound like and to me, it sounds like you're flirting with me."

Gabby laughed and said "Ding, ding, ding! Give the man a cigar! I _am_ flirting with you, Micky. I'm ready to see how we are together again, if that's okay with you. I did a lot of writing in my journal and processing and I think I've cleared out a lot of crap I was holding on to. I don't think there's anything else to do or say now. I'll only know if I'm okay by just being with you and seeing what happens. Do you feel ready to try holding hands and touching each other again, however far we can get with that, even if it's not very far?"

Micky sighed with relief. "Yes, I'm more than ready. I'm getting in my car and coming over to you right now. I'm not waiting until tomorrow."

"But Micky, it's late and you'll be tired."

"No I fucking won't be tired. I have been living on my last nerve for days and I'm about to explode if I can't touch your hand or face or arm or shoulder. Please let me come over, Gabby."

"Okay, I'd actually love it if you came over. You know me, I'm a night owl. I'd be up for hours anyway, projecting about tomorrow and thinking about it nonstop. Come to me and climb through my window, my parents won't find out and we can sit on my bed and touch each other."

Micky groaned at the thought and said "I'm leaving right now. But before I step foot out of this house, Gabby, I want you to know, I'm not coming over there for sex, though if it happened, I'd be thrilled. I'm coming over there to reclaim my privilege to express my love of you through touch. To kiss you, to hug you, to hold your hand, to stroke your skin, to be affectionate in a physical way. Are we clear on that? If anything else were to happen, I'd love it, but I will absolutely not expect it nor be disappointed if it doesn't. Are we clear on that? Are we on the same page with that?"

"Micky, you are the most extraordinary man I've ever known, and I think every woman I know would kill to find her very own Micky. I'm so lucky to have you as my very own, my one. I'm clear on that. We're on the same page. We are one. Hurry over, but don't drive crazy. Be safe. I'll be here whenever you get here. I love you."

"I'll see you soon, Gabriella."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	51. Chapter 51

Micky arrived around 10:30 p.m. He entered Gabby's apartment, but didn't reach for her to hug her like he normally would. He had decided to take his cues from her. She invited him in and he sat down on the couch. The other girls had gone to sleep already. Gabby asked if he wanted some wine.

"Nah, I better not. Do you have something non-alcoholic?"

"How about hot chocolate?" Gabby smiled at Micky's rejection of booze, assuming he wanted to keep his mind clear and also intuiting that he wasn't sure whether he'd be driving home. She also liked the idea that they'd be drinking a drink they would drink if they were sixteen.

"That sounds perfect. I love hot chocolate!" He wiggled his butt and rubbed his hands together with boyish glee. Gabby couldn't help but grin even more widely and remark "You're adorable." Micky looked at her shyly through his shaggy bangs and smiled.

As she stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil, Micky decided to hold on until she was next to him to start sharing about his day or ask her about hers. He had a very cinematic mind and was always directing the movie in his head. So the silence between them wasn't awkward, at least not on his side, and Gabby seemed to sense his intentions, having spent enough time with him and remembering back to the way he paused before they made love for the first time, to know that he wanted to set the scene just so.

She walked over to the couch and handed him his mug, sitting close to him on the couch but not touching him. They were each on one half of the L near the corner where the two corners of it met. They faced each other and Gabby said "Okay, you first. Tell me about your day. I want to hear about your song and your time with Davy." She blew on her hot chocolate and settled back to listen to Micky's tale.

"Well," Micky began, "we've got all the lyrics down now. I had the concept in my head already, and we had discussed that part of it when we were on top of the mountain in Palm Springs. It's about a guy who's leaving for Vietnam in the morning but he wants to see his girl one more time before he ships out. But we needed to have more than a story, we needed characters and then we needed to have a melody and structure for the song and a beat of course."

Gabby remembered him telling her the song was inspired by her, and silently appreciated Micky's nod to her dedication to the anti-war movement with the song's subject matter. She smiled at him when he described the plot and he caught her meaning without the need for words. Instead, she asked about his turf – the technical side. "What did you start with first – the melody or the beat?"

"I always start with the beat because that's the way my mind works, being a drummer, but that doesn't really make sense for this song because it's not just a dance or bop song, it's a song to make you think, which is why I wanted Davy's help. He knows how to tell a story with emotion. So we started with the melody. He also understands cadence and how that fits in with the rhythm. You know, how the words fit within the beat. He's a master with that. I mean, a guy who can make that piece of shit song _The Day We Fall In Love_ sound like poetry and not total tripe has got a gift."

"Yeah, that's true. I'm not a big fan of that song. I'm amazed that women go crazy for that one."

Micky chuckled. "We call that song the panty moistener. Ugh. I wish we'd never written it."

"Who _did_ write it?"

"You know how Oscar Wilde calls homosexuality the love that dare not speak its name? Well, the Monkees have taken a vow of silence on the authorship of that song. We dare not speak his name." Micky grinned as Gabby sniggered with laughter.

"I love how literate you are, Micky, not to mention so funny. That's a thigh slapper!"

"So go ahead and slap it." Micky looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a suggestive look.

She smiled and reached over and slapped his thigh, then left her hand on it and gave it a squeeze. He put his hand over her hand and squeezed her hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed it, then released it. She withdrew her hand and put it back on her mug.

"So tell me what you and Davy talked about at dinner."

"We talked about him and Lynda. He told me that Lynda has been trying to reform him and get him to be a human being."

"You mean to stop chasing tail?"

"No, it goes deeper than that. She says he just skims the surface and doesn't have any deep, meaningful relationships with anyone. That he doesn't experience life on a deep level because he's a total hedonist, and he doesn't have anyone to share it with because he hasn't taken the time to build relationships with that don't revolve around that person catering to his needs and reflecting back to him what he needs for his ego. She told him he ought to hang around me and be more like me, though God knows why. He said she thought that he should learn to be more sensitive and open to other people's needs and wants, and to take an interest in other people's feelings."

"Wow, well, I can't disagree with a thing that she said, frankly, and he sure could do worse than hanging around with you. But I had thought that Davy _was_ very close with you guys at least."

"I thought so too, but once we started talking, really talking about it, I realized that we weren't all that close. He started telling me things about himself that I didn't know, things about his upbringing that made him the way he is now, and things about the reason why he's turned into this superficial sex maniac. Like introspective type stuff. It was kind of a psychotherapy session for him. Guys don't usually get into that stuff. Well, actually, that's not true. Peter and I talk about that stuff because Pete's very open and into raising his own consciousness, and even Michael to a certain extent talks about that stuff with me because we share a room and he's often asked my advice about chicks because I guess he thought I had it all figured out and he was so wary of dating because of some heartache in the past. Turns out he sure figured it out just fine on his own and I'm the one who had a lot of growing up and figuring out to do. I'm glad he didn't take any of my advice. In fact, I think I was trying to be more like Davy. Kind of messed up how it all went in a big circle." Micky had a blush on his cheeks and looked a bit chastened.

"Sounds like it's all moving in the right direction now, though," said Gabby gently.

Micky shook himself out of his embarrassment and self-preoccupation and changed the topic. "Now you tell me about your day." He put his feet up on the coffee table and prepared to listen. Gabby shifted her feet in front of her and they lined up against his hip. He looked down at their contact point and then smiled at her.

"Well, congratulate and say hello to the newest reporter and columnist of _Open City_ , Los Angeles's largest and hippest underground newspaper!"

"Wow, Gabby, that's great! Want a hug with that congratulations?"

"Yes, I do." Micky reached over and hugged her, held her for a moment, then sat back in his former position and let her carry on with her news.

"So tell me all the details."

She explained how she got her foot in the door for the interview, described the interview, how she negotiated a side deal with a separate big payday for the story about the Monterey Pop Festival and the regular gig as a political reporter.

"That's assuming you still want me to come to the Festival, Micky," she said. "Of course I do, Gabby," he responded.

"I've even got a proposition for you. I'm being given a fancy camera to take photos and I can't take pictures for crap, but I've seen you snapping pictures of the gang with your little camera when we hang out now and again and I know you're crazy about photography. How'd you like to make a little side money yourself as my photographer at the Festival?"

Micky's eyes lit up like the moments before he opened his first gift on Christmas morning. "You bet! That will be a gas! I mean, not so much the money but getting my hands on a better camera than the one I have, and getting to point it at musicians and have the photos published and all."

"Oh, great! Thanks for that. We'll make a great team." She beamed at him. Then she remembered she wasn't done with telling him all her news.

"But the best part about this newspaper gig, Micky, is that I got them to give me the chance to write my very own opinion column. It's going to be on feminist issues. And guess what I'm going to call it? _The Shrew_! What do you think of that name?"

"Ha! That's so perfect! I love it. That wouldn't happen to have been inspired by a certain movie we went to see, would it?"

"You know it. In fact, it was inspired not just by the movie, but by the whole night itself, by being with you, the way we got together, the way we courted each other and came together. The column isn't just going to be a feminist screed every week. It's going to be a look at how women are making their way in a man's world and integrating themselves and breaking down barriers so that it doesn't matter that they have tits instead of testicles, as I've said before. Sure, I'll also be writing about inequities and injustice, but I'd really like to feature the success stories where women are making strides and leading the way for young women like me, kicking down those barriers and making a path for women my age to follow. You know why I even got the column in the first place? Because there's already a column in the paper called _The Dirty Old Man_. This crazy, _avant-garde_ drunk guy named Charles Bukowski writes it, and usually the column includes a story about him sleeping with some woman and treating her like a piece of shit. The publisher of the paper wanted to balance things out and have a different point of view represented. That's exactly the kind of success I'm talking about. We don't have to get rid of the dirty old man to succeed. There's room for both. Though if you ask me, I wish we didn't have so many dirty old or young men. I've spent the last few days exorcising that demon."

"So what else have you been up to?"

"So yeah, there's more! Part of my gig as political beat reporter is that I cover politics, but I'm also allowed to or even encouraged to instigate it. This is not a traditional newspaper, so the parameters are different. So I went over to UCLA this afternoon and met some great student government leaders who needed a mentor to help them get organized for an anti-war protest, so I told them about the President's visit and they're on board to get the students involved with that. I think we can reach out to other colleges in the area as well and form a critical mass and get some real momentum going. We're going to be meeting regularly and we've mapped out a game plan."

"That's impressive for just one day's work, babe!"

"Yeah, I know! For both of us. And that's not even all I did. When I called you and Peter answered, you weren't home and I had to wait for you to call me back, so I finished up writing in my journal and feel like I got through processing my thoughts about Nick that I've been working through while we've been apart these last few days. Oh, Micky, I think this time apart has done us some good. It's made me sorrowful and full of heartache and loneliness and longing, but I needed the time to get clarity and to get centered. To really look inside myself and see what was going on in there."

"I agree and feel pretty much the same way on all counts."

Gabby scooted over on the couch so that she was sitting next to Micky and put her feet up over his legs, like she had always done in the past when they sat on the couch. Short, stumpy legs over long, lanky legs, as she liked to joke. He settled his hands over her legs and caressed them, like he always used to.

He leaned into her and asked "So what did you come up with while you were journaling, if you don't mind my asking? What wisdom did you get from the pages? Did you figure out what had you spooked, and are you still spooked?"

"I did figure out what had me spooked, and no, I don't think I'm spooked anymore. Here's what I think was going on." She turned towards him and flipped her legs across his so she could look at him as she spoke.

"I think that our courtship, though lovely and I wouldn't trade a single day of it for anything, was very intense and took place over a short space of time. And when we had that fight in the bathtub, you were pointing that out to me. You said so yourself that we fell in love quickly, unusually so. Then I remember you telling me that we had only spent one night apart in the whole space of that time, in two weeks, and until that very moment it hadn't really dawned on me that that was the case. I had been so lost in the emotion and swept up by the romance that it just hadn't occurred to me that I hadn't let my feet touch the ground in all that time. I hadn't had any me time and I had gotten completely wrapped up in us. In fact, I had gotten lost in us.

"It occurred to me that for at least half of that time, I had been without a job and I had no ambition or timetable for when I was going to start looking for one. My life was all about you and me and going to gigs, surfing my emotions about how I felt about you, and living moment to moment with you in the very forefront of my mind. I had lost sight of myself as just me, as Gabby Levitt, woman with ambitions and dreams and intentions of doing Big Things. And then there we were, arguing about it in the bathtub, and I was trying to tell you who I was and about my intentions for living that life and how you'd have to fit in around those ambitions just like I have to fit in around your gigs and you seemed to be very accepting of all that and then all of a sudden, you weren't. At the last minute you turned around and completely reversed course and said you weren't okay with that and you wanted to take it all back and you said that you had lied about it and you were a hypocrite. And then you walked away from me. You just left me sitting there like a child who had misbehaved.

"Well, I'm not going to wound you by telling you just how closely and minutely all of these experiences of those two weeks resembled my experiences and relationship with Nick, but they did and I just didn't realize it until the next morning when you and I were sitting in that Jacuzzi together. It was like the bathtub all over again, only warmer. We were naked in the water, and I felt vulnerable and scared, and I went into a panic attack. I left my body and just completely checked out mentally. It was literally an out-of-body experience and I was floating above myself staring down at us. That's when it stopped feeling safe to let you touch me, but I was already associating you with Nick even before then. I told Wendy about it when she woke up and found me sleeping on the couch."

"Yes, she told me when she woke me up and told me to go find you and work things out with you. Gabby, I don't know if you heard me that morning, I'm not sure if you had already left your body, but I swear I didn't shut you out that night. I fell asleep crying, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. I had that same experience you sometimes have when you're really upset. My system just shut down and I fell asleep. And I slept all night long and I didn't know you were out on the couch. I didn't realize it until Wendy came in and woke me up the next morning."

Gabby looked surprised and stunned. "Oh! Now I do remember you saying something about that to me, but I wasn't really focusing on that, I was trying to figure out if you were lying to me, like Nick used to. He would always try to apologize to me after he did cruel things to me, but he was always lying and then he'd do the same thing or worse to me again later. And I was thinking wow, have I sunk that low again that I'm with another guy who I have to figure out whether he's lying to me? I did believe you when you said it, but all I could think of was that it was a pretty low bar I was setting for the relationship if the best I could say was that you weren't lying to me. So the damage had already been done and the trauma was already running wild, Micky. It was already in motion. It wouldn't have mattered what you said to me at that point."

Micky bobbed his head in comprehension but he still had more questions and concerns. "So you figured out that you were drawing a lot of parallels between me and your situation with Nick, even though the courtship had been a positive experience for you overall. That's what I want to know more about. Because I feel like I'm responsible for driving you insane and I can't live with myself if I did that."

"No, Micky. You don't own that. That's my noise, not yours. You did something insensitive that triggered an avalanche, but you didn't pile the snow up on the precipice. It was already up there, waiting to come tumbling down. I'm just telling you what went down. I'm not trying to shame you or make you own what isn't yours. I'm trying to give you the answers you were seeking. I for one feel relieved to have found them. So let's get to the positive stuff I figured out."

Micky exhaled a big breath and said "Yeah, definitely let's. I could use some good news."

Gabby smiled and took Micky's hands in hers. "The good news is that I have clarity now, and I can see what's real and what's just a nightmare from my memory. I know you don't want to hurt me and had no intention of doing so. Any hurt you caused me was unintentional and you were remorseful for it and were trying to tell me that in the Jacuzzi. I misunderstood what happened and I projected on to you motives and behaviors that just aren't in your nature. It was a knee jerk reaction driven by horrible memories and experiences from my past. But I think one of the reasons why I wasn't equipped to react in a rational manner is I made one mistake with you that I made with Nick. I gave my whole life over to you, just like I did with him. I spent too much of my own personal energy and capital on you and us and not enough of it on myself. I didn't do self-care, or introspection or job hunting or even hardly my laundry. I was all out of whack. My equilibrium was out of balance and once again, a man I loved was the center of my universe and I didn't have my own strong self to rely on.

Gabby continued explaining, "Even the way I attended your gigs had changed. I didn't dance for myself anymore. I hovered near the stage and worried about you. So on last Friday night, the night we were going to go on our pretend first date, I went to the back of the club like I used to, and I just danced on my own and disappeared into the music for a while, and it helped me get my head back together. And once I had done that, the universe sent me a little angel in the form of that guy John from Simpsons, who I didn't actually even know that well, and I just blahhed all over him and told him all about you and me and he told me everything I needed to hear about how to approach our situation. It was like I was finally realizing that I needed to take some time and distance, both mentally and physically, to regroup and get myself centered again. I feel like I've done that now, and what I'd like to do is to maintain that practice going forward. I want to be with you as closely and as much as possible, but I also want to carve out a bit of room for myself so that I don't lose myself again. I obviously have that tendency and I need to be careful not to let that happen. What do you think about what I've said?"

"I understand everything you've said, Gabby. It makes total sense to me. And none of it hurt me or stabbed me in the heart. So I thank you for that. And in fact, aside from the fact that I don't have the trauma you're dealing with, I don't disagree that it's been useful and rewarding to have this time apart. I've finally gotten off my ass and started writing a song that I've wanted to commit to for a while now. I'm being a friend to Davy in whatever weird way he seems to need, which I probably wouldn't have been available to do if I'd have been joined at the hip with you. And I've learned more about myself and you, and that's always good and can never be anything but helpful to our relationship. I've said it before and I've said it again, I have excessive tendencies of my own and one of them is to always want more of everything, and obviously wanting to spend as much time as possible with you is kind of a gimme in that regard. It's just like me wanting to eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So it's a question of maturity, and I've admitted that I'm not long on that when it comes to relationships with women. So I'm learning as I go along. I think we're both still trying to get to know how to do relationships, so it's fair that you want something from me to give you room and I'll ask something from you, which is to forgive me for crowding you. I truly didn't know that's what I was doing."

"Oh, Micky, I'm not looking for an apology, and you didn't crowd me. I obviously was a willing participant in every single minute I spent with you. I also have the natural tendency to lose myself in whatever man I'm dating. That's what I've been saying. I'm learning that that's my natural instinct and it's unhealthy for me and I need to draw a boundary because of my own immaturity, not because of yours. So please don't own my stuff. Or if you're going to, let's own everything together. Let's make it equal, like we do everything else. Deal?"

"Deal. Shake on it?"

Gabby gave Micky her hand and he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. She exhaled a quick breath as if she had felt an electric shock. He looked at her abruptly, then kissed her hand again. She inhaled another big breath. He moved his lips up to the small bone protruding on the outside of her wrist and kissed her there. Now she seemed to be holding her breath. He was listening keenly and heard nothing at all. He advanced up her forearm and planted another soft kiss. She exhaled the breath she had been holding and sipped another quick breath. One more kiss and he was at the freckle near the top inside of her forearm, which he kissed deliberately. Then he twisted her arm and kissed her tenderly at the bend in her arm where the vein was throbbing as her heart beat faster than normal. He let his tongue snake out of his mouth and gave a small lick. She threw her head back and blew a big breath of air out her nose.

He pulled her whole arm towards him to bring her closer and he continued up her bicep to her shoulder and then traveled to her neck, where he lingered with tiny kisses and she squirmed and panted. He detoured to her jawbone and followed it up to her chin and then down her throat. She was now panting steadily and leaning into his kisses. She had on a V-neck t-shirt that exposed her clavicle and cleavage, so he aimed for her clavicle bones next. He lingered there and went no further. Now it was up to her. True to his word, he was going to make her ask for it, beg for it, consent to it if she wanted him to go any further.

She reached up and ran her hands through his curls, tangling her fingers through them and stroking his head and neck. Then she moved his head down to her chest and he smiled and nodded his head.

"That's what I wanted. What I needed. You knew it, right?"

"Yes. You wanted me to ask for it. To beg you for it. To consent."

"So tell me, Gabriella, tell me what you want."

"I want – I want – I want you to touch me, Micky. I want you to touch me anywhere you want to. I have no reservations, no fear, no hesitation. If my body tells me anything contrary that my head doesn't know, I apologize in advance and promise you we'll work through it and regroup. I will not relinquish our closeness. I will never give you up."

Micky stood up and eased her up with him. He took her hand, led her into her bedroom and closed and locked the door. She lit the small bedside lamp and sat down on the bed. Micky sat down next to her and picked up exactly where he left off. He kissed her clavicle again and then descended to the part of her chest that was exposed by her t-shirt and didn't stray from that area. He waited again for her to tell him to proceed.

Knowing she was going to have to drive this bus to put Micky at ease, she raised his head and kissed him deeply, then removed her t-shirt and reached for his and helped him take it off. She climbed to her knees, moved closer to him and rubbed her skin all over his. Micky shivered and moaned and fell back, pulling her down with him.

Gabby decided to take over as the aggressor. She sat up and straddled Micky's pelvis with her knees apart. She ran her fingertips lightly over his nipples. As always, he reacted favorably and with great sensitivity to her touch. She let her fingertips run down his belly and all around its perimeter, and combed the lines of each of his ribs and the definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. She circled his belly button and poked her finger in it and wiggled it around, which made him giggle, and she winked in response.

He mirrored her move, poking his finger in her belly button and winking back at her, then reaching up and feeling all the same places on her belly, except for her breasts. He was still waiting for the go-ahead from her. She reached behind her, unclasped her bra, slid it off and tossed it away. He didn't move his hands, which were resting on her waist. He just laid there and stared deep into her eyes and waited. She took his hands in hers, kissed each knuckle on each hand, and then placed his hands on her breasts. Then, lest he feel self-conscious or overthink things, she leaned forward and began to kiss him.

She realized that in a way, Micky now had trauma he was dealing with as well. He was worried that he had irreparably hurt Gabby, that he had caused her such distress that his touch had caused her to have a nervous breakdown. He had always cherished their total lack of inhibition and she knew that right at this moment he felt extremely inhibited. She herself was determined not to feel any inhibitions. It was the only way to find her way back to him. So she decided to snap him out of his spell and whispered one of her classic dirty talking cheerleader lines in his ear "Come on, Micky, take what you want. Have fun!"

He reacted with a jolt and a big smile broke through his concern-clouded face. Then his hands began to move. As if he were awakening from a nightmare or returning from an arduous journey and stumbling onto an oasis, he sighed with relief and relaxed into her flesh. His joints and limbs softened and the tension left them. He scooted Gabby up and bent her over him until her breasts were dangling above his face. He lowered them to his mouth and teased them gently, lazily, randomly. She oohed and aahed each time his tongue passed over her flesh. He began to make a game of it, making her guess where he'd land next, anticipate whether it would be a dry kiss, a lick, a suck, a nibble or a gentle bite. He used his hands to push them together and give them almost equal attention simultaneously, then to part them and twist and manipulate them separately. She was moaning and arching into him, pressing into his touch with her flesh, not being able to get enough. He flipped her over onto her back and continued to lavish attention on them until she thought she would lose consciousness. Still, she was getting edgy because once again, Micky was waiting for her permission to proceed farther.

"My Micky, do you want to know what I want now?"

"What, Gabriella, tell me."

I want you to take the rest of my clothes off and also yours."

"And then what?"

"And then I want you to be my Micky, the one who is uninhibited and fun to make love to and hiiiiiighly competent, and I want you to treat me like your Gabriella, the one who is a potty mouthed cheerleader who makes making love like a religious experience, marching in a parade and playing hooky from school all at the same time. Do you think you can do that?"

"I think so, Gabby. But if I can't, I apologize in advance and promise you we'll work through it and regroup. I will not relinquish our closeness. I will never give you up."

She smiled and gave a giggle. "Damn, you've got a good memory."

"It's all that script memorization I did as a child actor. You're not so bad at remembering things yourself."

"That's because the things you say are so special and memorable. They are written upon my heart and I cherish them. You don't have to make love to me if you don't feel right about it, Micky. But will you please touch me wherever you want to?"

"Yes, I will. It will be my pleasure."

He started to strip off the rest of Gabby's clothes, carefully, gently and slowly, then he allowed her to help him take his clothes off. They sat together on the bed and just gazed at each other for a moment. He took his hands and ran them all along the outline of her body, like he did the first time they were naked together.

He laid her back down and resumed kissing her breasts, then worked his way down her belly and spread her legs and began to suck her coochie all around its perimeter to start off, then moved in concentric circles until he zeroed in to her most sensitive spot. He was working her over and she was moaning when an idea occurred to her. She wanted to reciprocate and keep Micky company and have this be less one-sided. She knew he was being incredibly brave right now, and knew he was probably nervous as hell. So she sat up for a moment and said "Hold on a moment, Micky."

He looked alarmed, thinking they had hit the wall and it was all going to fall apart. "No, don't look scared. I just want to try something new that we haven't done before. Are you up for it?"

"Sure, Gabby. What did you have in mind?"

"I want to keep you company while you go down on me."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to go down on you at the same time."

Micky got what she was driving at and got an enormous smile on his face. "Far out!"

"I've never done it before. How do you want me to be? I imagine you've had this fantasy before or probably even done it, and you know how it works. We'll be like Dawn and Peter with their sex lessons. You can be the teacher."

Micky rolled Gabby onto her side and he rolled on to his side facing in the other direction, then he spread her legs and resumed his prior activities. Gabby waited a moment for Micky to settle himself, then she took a deep breath and took him into her mouth. She actually found it distracting to do both at the same time. He kept making her feel so damn good that she'd lose track of what she was doing and stop sucking him. She realized that one of them was going to come first and it was probably going to be her, but she would just let it happen and then catch up with him later. The whole point was to ease his nerves and to grant him a fantasy. The logistics didn't matter, and simultaneous orgasms were overrated, she decided.

She paused to give his testicles her special brand of loving attention, and this time it was Micky who got distracted, which made her laugh out loud. He heard her giggling and he moaned and giggled simultaneously. Now the joy of this act was surfacing and they were both having fun. She took advantage of his pausing his own action to get a jump on him and really started to lick and suck on him hard and fast. He began to react like he usually did when he was about to come – he started making more and more noise, until she had to warn him not to wake her roommates, and then she said "Give in to me, Micky, surrender to me." She gave a few more hard sucks while she gently stroked his balls and he blew his stack, burying his cries into a pillow. She kept his penis in her mouth until he had softened completely, occasionally sucking him and causing him to shudder with the sensitive nerves still zinging through his whole package.

As soon as she let his penis slide out of her mouth, he grabbed her legs and slid her up to his mouth and parted her legs. He had scooted up against the headboard and he had her head between his lower legs and the rest of her body resting on his abdomen. Her legs were braced against the headboard. She reflected that it was similar to the position she assumed when getting her yearly gynecological exam, minus the stirrups and a hell of a lot more pleasant. He leaned forward and began to lap at her whole coochie, which by now was sopping wet with a combination of her own juices and his saliva. Now he was on a mission. He zeroed in on her clitoris and gave no quarter. She squirmed and moaned and he mercilessly ground his mouth on her mound, applying pressure and suction. Then suddenly, he ceased and blew air on her and watched her twitch nervously awaiting his next move. He peeled back the hood of skin that protected her most sensitive nub, what they referred to as her love button, her clitoris, and he lightly touched his tongue to it. She shook with anticipation between every pass of his tongue over it. He inserted two fingers into her vagina and rubbed her upper wall and she began to tremble, then he inserted a third one and she cried out in ecstasy. He scolded her and reminded her not to wake her roommates, and she grumbled and laughed.

While she was still chuckling, he bent down and sucked her clitoris without cessation until she began to rumble and tingle and thrash. Finally the dam broke on an orgasm that went on and on and on. She kept waiting for it to end, but it didn't. She just kept whispering "Stay, stay, stay," and he kept running his tongue over the same spot over and over while she rode out the tremors and echoes of the orgasm. She was afraid he'd leave her, abandon her while she was still coming, but he reassured he wouldn't move, though he did switch from his tongue to his fingers. "I'm with you, I'm with you," he reassured her as he now stroked her with his fingers from his free hand. He left his other fingers inside her and could feel her vaginal muscles continue to convulse. This amazed him. Gabby had her eyes clamped shut as she clutched her thighs and continued to ride wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure. Micky's scientist's mind was curious to document this remarkable phenomenon, so he kept glancing at the clock on her bedside table. Finally, after about seven minutes, she sighed and relaxed and said "Okay, I think it's over. If you can still move them, you can have your fingers back."

"Man, Gabby, that was far out. How do you feel?"

"Like I just took a long, strange journey to another universe and then fell back to Earth."

"Has that ever happened to you before, either with a guy or by yourself?"

"No and no," she said succinctly. "I didn't even know it _could_ happen. That can be another Nobel winning paper we author together."

Micky eased her back down and around so that he could cradle her in his arms. He reached for the afghan at the foot of her bed and pulled it over them.

"How do you feel, my Micky?"

"I feel like I'm home again, like my world has been returned to its normal state of equilibrium. There's been a definite change between us. Things aren't as they were before, but it feels like it's a positive change, a necessary change, and a step forward. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I do. I think we both just did some growing up together. It's like when I was going through my growth spurt in sixth grade. I got my boobs then and I grew all but the last inch of my height, and I got some stretch marks from it, and it was kind of painful. I also got my period that year, too. That was the physical pain of the growing. Then I also was very awkward and shy and insecure about myself and had to start junior high school at the school near the peacock houses and that was the emotional part of growing up. I had to find my place and find some friends and build a world for myself, and get used to going from having just one teacher to having seven different ones, one for each period of the day and each subject. But that was just a necessary part of life and a stop along the way. You see where I'm going with this?"

"Yeah, we're in the adolescent phase of our relationship, even though we think we're adults who know it all. The fact is, you and I don't really have all that much experience between us about what it means to have a healthy, loving, adult relationship, and we're kind of learning on the job together."

"That's so true, Micky. And we're bound to make mistakes and get burned and stumble and fall. But it's also been such a rush and such tremendous fun. And it's been the most intense, incredibly rewarding, loving experience of my entire life, other than meeting Wendy and forging that friendship. Except for the sex." They both laughed.

Micky asked "Speaking of sex, how did you feel about what we just did? I mean I know it wasn't full-on sex, but to me that's a distinction without a difference. It was just as meaningful as if it had been intercourse. I want to know if you had any reservations or fears or concerns."

"My only concerns were for you, Micky, and for any worries you were having. I know I traumatized you with my own trauma. I transferred my worries to you and my discomfort to you. That's because you're such an empathetic person. I felt you taking on my load and could tell you weren't comfortable with it yourself. Or am I mistaken about that?"

"No, you read me right. I was pretty much terrified. Scared I would do the wrong thing, touch you the wrong way, send you screaming off into the living room, calling the cops on me or I don't know what. I felt like maybe I really was like Nick after all and I had to atone for his sins as my own."

"Oh, Micky, I'm so sorry. I knew you felt bad, but I didn't realize it was to that extent. I just thought you were nervous. Please, please forgive me for laying that on you. I surely didn't mean to." She took Micky in her arms and stroked and petted his head and neck and kissed his face all over.

"It's okay, Gabby. I know that wasn't your intent. Like you said to me tonight, that's my noise, not yours. You don't have to own it. In any case, I think we've put that behind us now, haven't we?"

"Yes, I think we have. I didn't feel a minute's hesitation with you. In fact, your own timidity kind of spurred me on to take the initiative myself and made it easier for me to be brave. It feels like every time we hit a bump in the road, we manage to turn it around and make it work for us and turn it into a virtue. Even the way we met turned out to be a blessing and made our relationship stronger."

"I love you, Gabby, and I'll give you anything you want to make us work. I've always said that. So that means we need to sit down when we're not tired and talk about your new work schedule and figure out how I fit into that, and make sure you have time for yourself and your work and for me. You need balance and so do I. I realize that now. I think there may even be a way for us to work together a bit, in addition to the Festival gig. When we were on top of the mountain, Davy and I were discussing ways we could get involved in the anti-war effort, so if there's a way that it makes sense for us to help you, maybe once you figure out your game plan, we can talk about Davy and me being a part of it. And then there's our new song. I'm thinking we ought to make a demo of it and bring it to the Festival with us. We'll have to come up with the loot to get it produced, and that's going to take some time and effort on my part, too, so I could use some Micky time for that as well. I'm not at all opposed to us giving each other some space and time to do our own thing. I still want to be with you as much as possible and as much as we can, but let's be more conscious about excess in all things. Does that sound like I'm thinking along the same lines as you?"

"Totally, Micky. You really get me. I've said that before and I'll say it again. I think that's why Lynda wants Davy to hang around with you. You're an empath and you listen to people and try to figure out who they are and what they need. You're sensitive to others' needs and that is one of your finest qualities."

"Just one thing, Gabby. Is it okay if I stay here tonight? I'm tired and overwrought, and it's a long drive back. I won't touch you, or if you want me to sleep on the couch, I will."

"Of course, I want you to stay. I would have asked you to stay anyway, and no, I don't want you on the couch. That is never going to happen ever again for as long as we are together. It happened once and it was awful. Can we please vow that we will never allow our relationship to get to the point where one of us has to sleep on the couch? That if we are in bad shape, we'll talk things through before bedtime and make it better so that we can sleep in the same bed? And then if we still can't get to a meeting of the minds, we'll sleep in our own beds and take the time to get our heads together and then regroup?"

"Yes. I promise. No more sleeping on the couch."

"Come to me then, my Micky. Lay your head on Momma's bosom and get some sleep."

"I love you, Gabby."

"I love you, Micky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	52. Chapter 52

Micky emerged from Gabby's bedroom the next morning to find the three girls sitting at the kitchen table whispering and laughing. He felt a bit embarrassed, knowing that most likely he was the topic of conversation. Facing his predicament head on with his usual fallback of humor to disarm the situation from everyone's discomfort, he settled himself down at the table imitating a woman and said with a breathy voice "Oooh, girls, fill me in on all the dirt! What went down, what was said, who came first and will they still be dating each other or was it just a one-night stand?"

The girls looked at him with shocked expressions, then broke up into raucous, bawdy laughter. Wendy reached across the table and put her hand on Micky's, saying "Welcome back, Micky. I'm glad you're still going to be around to keep our girl in line. She needed a good stroking. She's been moping around the house digging back into her past, and now it's time for her to step into her future with you."

Micky grinned in appreciation and agreement.

Dawn commented "I hear you and Gabby took a page out of my playbook and attended school last night. She won't tell me what she learned, though, and that's pissing me off because I want to have it in my toolbox for Peter just in case."

Micky laughed and said "Oh, I'm pretty sure Pete already knows all the ins and outs of that lesson plan. But if he needs to know, tell him to talk to me and I'll set him straight."

Gabby stood up and put her arms protectively around Micky's neck and chest from behind. "Okay, girls, that's enough hazing for one day. Lay off my Micky. Or maybe he won't be so forbearing the next time one of you wants to get it on with your guy in the back seat of the car while we're barreling down road. Maybe he'll have to hit a few potholes and swerve to miss a few critters."

Gabby offered Micky breakfast but she didn't have his standard fare in the house, so he settled for a bagel and coffee. When the girls had gone to work and left them alone, they leaned back in their chairs and decided to pick up where they left off with their discussion the night before. Micky led off.

"So tell me about what your new schedule will be like and how you want me to fit into it."

"Well, fortunately, it's a weekly paper, so deadlines aren't that tight, and it's a groovy place, so it's not a nine-to-five gig where I have to be at the office all the time. In fact, hanging around the office misses the whole point of the job. The real work takes place outside the office, with me running around looking for people to interview, stories to chase down and even things to investigate. So I'm still fairly flexible or maybe even more so than I used to be than when I worked at the bookstore. That said, I'll probably be working more hours and at stranger, more random times and I won't always know my schedule in advance, so you may have to take me as you find me. But that's kind of how you are with practices, too."

"Yeah, that's true. So far, I get you. So what about my gigs? Will you still come to them?"

"Of course, that's our pact. You've asked me to be there to support you, and I've vowed to do that. And on most gig nights I'll probably want us to be together after the gig just like before, but maybe sometimes I won't because I have something to do the next day, or I just need to catch up with myself, and I hope you won't read anything deep into it if I say I want to go home without you. Can you handle that?"

"Yeah, as long as you're telling me what's on your mind. I don't mean you have to report in to me, or make excuses, but just reassure me, especially at the beginning, until I get used to not having you as much as I have before. And because I've always said that I want to know what's in your head and heart. That's a big part of my love for you. It's probably more meaningful for me than the physical part, to know what's going on inside of you. So if we keep our communication lines open, then being apart won't be as painful."

"Yes, you're right. I'll be sure to make sure I tell you where my head is at. And I encourage you to do the same. Please pursue what's important to you but let me down gently as well. I can get awfully jealous and insecure about those groupies, even now after all we've been through. I don't want my imagination running away with itself. You're the most desirable, wonderful guy I know, and I'm positive, having seen it with my own eyes, that there are dozens of women just waiting to pounce on you the minute my back is turned."

"Gabby, that isn't going to happen. But I understand your insecurity and concern, especially given my track record before we met, and also considering that we just dealt with a stalker, or rather a group of stalkers."

"So let's talk about this week, Micky. I want to try to figure out a routine for myself, but I really don't know how it's going to go. How about if I touch base with you late in the day each day and tell you where I'm at to see if you're free that night if I don't have something to do (or you can call me if you can find me) and hopefully we can spend the night together and even sleep in the same bed, with or without sex, whatever we're up for. And also, if by some good fortune I have time in the day to meet up with you and I don't need the time to myself to get something else done, I'll call you if I can track you down. But always, always, we'll talk every night on the phone from home if we're apart. We'll never miss a night to touch base and tell each other what our day was like and to say goodnight. Will that work?"

"Yes, except one thing. Can we leave room to make plans in advance if there's something we particularly want to do together, like go to the beach on the weekend, or during the week go see a movie or go out to dinner, or just be together, you know, like a date night?"

"Yeah, I like that idea very much! A date night. That's kind of sexy. Makes it special and like we aren't taking anything for granted. I'm not saying that I don't want to see you often, I'm just saying that I need to make room for my life and also self-care, and I'm sure we'll fall into some comfortable rhythm after a while. Let's just try to ride out the bumps at the beginning and be really patient and communicative until we get used to it."

Micky reached for Gabby and pulled her to her feet so that he could give her a full body hug. He pressed his body as close to her as he possibly could and sighed deeply. The puff of breath hit her ear and she felt a fluttering in her belly and trembled and shivered. Micky drew his head back and looked at her seriously, searching her eyes to see what she was communicating to him. She held his gaze and spoke to him with no words but with a piercing look of desire.

He ran his lips lightly over hers and murmured "What is it, Gabriella, what's in that look that you just gave me? What are you saying to me without words?"

"I'm telling you I want you and I want you to take me right now and make me yours again. Leave no distance between us. Like the way you hugged me just now. Pressing into me. Bearing down on me. I want you to do that to me with no clothes on."

Micky took a deep breath and exhaled it again into her ear and neck and she shivered once more. "You won't be afraid of me dominating you?"

"I want you to. I want you to claim me. To own me. To make me yours and take what's yours. But do it slowly and purposefully. Show me you can own me but not hurt me. I want you on top of me. I want to give you all my trust and for you to take it in your hands and enjoy it and then hand it back to me as pristine as it was when I turned it over to you. Come get me, Micky."

He reached down and picked Gabby up off the ground and scooped her into his arms. He carried her into her bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them, depositing her gently on the bed, then turned around and locked the door. She laid back on the bed leaning on her elbows, watching him with eyes burning with desire and anticipation, watching him take his clothes off.

Then he moved towards the bed, removed her pajamas and laid her gently back on the bed again. He took his right index finger and ran it all around the perimeter of her whole body, as if he were drawing a paper doll on a piece of cardboard to cut out. He took both hands now and ran them down her sides from her shoulders to her ankles and enjoyed the feel of her curves, stopping to pause at each place where they indented sharply and changed angles.

Quite suddenly he swooped in and began to overwhelm her with kisses on her mouth and lashed her tongue with his. She became breathless as he kissed her over and over again, never letting up, and she was dizzy with passion. His kisses started to descend down her neck, under her chin, and to her throat. He sucked on her, stopping just short of giving her a hickey, but being sure to take in folds of skin and pull and nip at them and run them lightly between his teeth, then to suck at them.

Down he moved to her breasts, which he gave similar treatment. He licked and sucked and nibble and coaxed her nipples into stiff peaks. He pulled at them very hard and watched them stand at attention away from Gabby's body and then gently recede back down, then as soon as that would happen he'd grab them again and repeat the process. He nudged her chin down and encouraged her to watch as he performed this maneuver again and again.

"That turn you on, the power I have over your nipples, to make them salute me and praise their Captain?"

"Yes, Captain, I must admit that I am very turned on by watching you master my body. Please do that some more."

"Who are you now? Not Mr. Spock, I take it."

"No, I'm Uhura. I think they're gonna get it on someday, don't you?"

"That would be hot. Wonder if the censors would let that fly."

"Maybe that will be the basis of one of my _The Shrew_ columns one day."

"Where are we on the ship? Not on the bridge, not enough privacy."

"In the Captain's quarters, of course. You've called me in for a status report and have confessed to me how hot you are for me. So I've told you that my body is yours and I'm willingly allowing you to ravish me. Full speed ahead, Captain. Come get me."

Micky smiled and returned to his pleasurable task of taking Gabby as she asked him to. She wanted him to dominate her, to own her. That was something he had been reluctant to do the first time they made love, or even at all since they became lovers, but now she had specifically asked for it. He wondered why. Maybe it was because she wanted to show him that nothing was off-limits, and that she had no fear that he would abuse the privilege, like Nick had. She was completely uninhibited now and opening herself up to any sort of sexual experience they chose to have, barring the one hard limit she had firmly set.

"I'm going to prepare you for the journey, Uhura. You need to be ready before I take you."

Gabby just closed her eyes and said "Mhmmmm."

Micky reached down to assess how wet Gabby was and whether she would be able to accommodate him comfortably. He decided she wasn't quite there yet, so he stroked her folds and clitoris and stimulated her gently but firmly. He figured it wouldn't even matter if this stimulation caused her to have an orgasm before he entered her, since she probably wouldn't have one the way he was going to take her, but he was hoping he could bring her just to the edge and then enter her and take her and help them climax together.

Slowly but surely, as he continued to stroke her, Gabby began to squirm and moan and became soaking wet and ready to receive him. He stayed with her until he recognized the signs of her impending orgasm. Then he said "I'm going to take you now, my Gabriella. Take you and own you and claim you, like you asked me to." He entered her but kept his fingers where they were and continued to stroke her. Then he began to thrust hard into her. She threw her arms around his back and pulled him in closer to her and wrapped her legs around him, encouraging him to press harder by digging in with her heels.

"Harder, Micky, harder!" she encouraged him. "Make me yours. Take me!"

He bore down on her and pressed into her and ground his pelvis into hers. Suddenly he heard her gasp and the pressure from his fingers and the weight of his body set off a tidal wave of tingling feelings that escalated into an orgasm that she shouted out unreservedly since they had the place to themselves. Now he used both of his hands to throw her hands up above her head and pin them down. He held onto her arms for leverage and rutted against her furiously, pressing hard down upon her. The contraction of her own inner muscles and the heat radiating from within her, combined with the audio stimulation of hearing her completely let go caused him to topple over the edge and he began to shout the arrival of his own climax. He continued to plunge himself in and out of her, now kissing her breasts and neck and arms wildly. She wanted no distance between them, and he left none whatsoever. He was pressing into her as hard as he could, and she now freed her arms and clutched on to his back and pulled him into her as if to bring him even closer and more deeply inside of her. Her heels were running over the backs of his legs and butt and pressing him to stay inside of her.

Finally, his motion stilled but he continued to press down on her and she continued to use her heels to hold him in place, caressing his skin. She contracted her inner muscles to make him jump as he was very sensitive now, and then as soon as he'd move a bit she'd press him back down to hold him firm. Now she was dominating him and they both giggled. He knew she had him in her vice grip and would release him when she was ready. She beckoned him for a kiss by raising her head to meet his, and they tangled tongues passionately, then she dropped her head back down on the pillow and he buried his face in her neck. They both exhaled large breaths with satisfaction.

Finally, Gabby removed her legs and heels from his backside and allowed her vaginal muscles to relax. He could move when he was ready. He lay there for a bit longer, now kissing her tenderly on the neck and chest and brushing her breasts with his fingertips, noticing that her nipples were still standing at attention in stiff peaks.

"That's respect, Uhura. Standing at attention at all times. But you know, it's okay. At ease, I say."

Gabby noticed he was making a joke about her protruding nipples and giggled. "Just remember that the next time I'm up for promotion, Captain."

"Ooooohhhhhh, my Gabby," Micky moaned and sighed. "Did I give you what you wanted and were hoping for?"

"Yes, Micky. Yes. Yes. Yes. I feel like I can trust anything we do now sexually. Except that one thing I mentioned. I wanted to make sure that you could be completely in charge of my body and that I not only wouldn't mind but that I'd enjoy it. And I did. I really did. I wanted it so badly, in fact. Thank you for trusting me to give it to me, to give me what I asked for."

"I was scared, Gabby, but I was also really turned on. You know, even when we first started going out, I didn't want to do it that way with you. I felt like you being a feminist and all, you wouldn't want to be dominated."

"I appreciate that, Micky. But I think there's a difference when it's done with consent. It's not a power play with you and me, it's a fantasy and a way of receiving and granting pleasure. I wanted you to have pleasure in a certain way, and I wanted to receive it in that way. I mostly don't want it that way, as you've noticed, but once in a while that's what feels right and I want you to get what you need. So I want you to tell me if that's what you want, if ever you want it, and I want to give it to you. Even if you think it won't bring me immediate pleasure. There's time for me later or another time altogether. I don't have to get off every time we make love. But I always want both of us to be satisfied. That's something different and much more important."

"I dig. And I feel the same way. Mmmmm, that was a great way to start the day. But I'll bet you've got things to do, and so do I. Want to take a shower and I'll get going?"

"Yes, that sounds good."

"Let's call this our visit for today, and we'll talk tonight. Sound good?"

"Yes, Micky. That sounds just right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	53. Chapter 53

May was coming to a close, and somehow Micky and Gabby managed to navigate its days in relative harmony and syncopation. They got used to being individuals within the framework of their relationship as a couple, supporting each other as they had before, but with more of an eye towards making sure that they were taking time for and prioritizing each of their life goals and self-care that would make them more solid as both individuals and as a couple, and to advance them to the next level in their lives so that they could possibly make those dreams of a place of their own and a couple of dogs come true. They valued their time together more, savored it, and made it more interesting and spicy. Sex wasn't always on the menu (though when it was it was hot hot hot), but communication always was, and the way their minds met was endlessly fascinating, challenging and exciting to both of them. That was really the core of their attraction and it made for the most solid relationship either of them had ever had.

Date nights were their favorite times together, those occasions when they deliberately went out of their way to do something special together. They visited nightclubs as patrons as opposed to employee and cheerleader, and danced and enjoyed the music and the way their bodies moved together and apart. Gabby relented and they saw a couple of science fiction movies, and she enjoyed them for the cheese factor and how it made her laugh, much to Micky's consternation, but he conceded that he was glad that at least she was enjoying them.

And they finally had their epic book club discussion of _Fahrenheit 451_ , which Micky found time to finish one week when Gabby was particularly busy chasing down a story for the newspaper and he had some alone time.

They went to their favorite Mexican restaurant, ordered enormous combo platters and beers, and chatted about the book, which depicted a world in which the government ordered books banned and burned. An outlaw, ragtag group of people hid out on the fringes of society and committed to memorizing a whole book each, in order to preserve the book for a future when a less totalitarian government regime could be raised and overthrow the current fascist powers that be. They both felt there were parallels to be drawn to the modern day and lessons to be learned and mistakes that were being repeated right before their eyes. Talk turned inevitably to the war and Gabby's progress in helping to plan the anti-war rally, which was metastasizing daily into a growing coalition of groups that planned to demonstrate on the day the President came to town.

Gabby asked Micky how the new song was coming along.

"Well, we've done what we could with it and now it's in Mike and Peter's hands, but it's basically done. They've been setting it to music properly and Peter's notating it, since he's really the only one of us who has formal musical training to do that part, though I did get guitar lessons as a kid, but not music theory like him. He's really an amazing technical musician. I'd like to finish it up soon and make a rough demo of it on a crappy tape recorder and try to shop it around and see if we can find someone with a decent sound system who will either let us borrow it or rent it affordably to let us record a workable demo for the Festival."

Gabby had no clue about how the music business worked, so she wanted to hear more about how music got born. "Don't you just go rent a studio and go at it?"

"Yeah, you can do that if you've got a sack full of money and some backing from a record label, but if you're unsigned and starting from scratch like we are, you've got to be more creative and thrifty."

"Why don't you guys talk to Wendy about it? She works at Wallichs Music City, and the guy who runs the store is in partnership with his brother, who is connected to Capitol Records. Maybe there's a connection there that you could work."

Micky perked up and his eyes glittered. "Hey, that's a thought. Sure couldn't hurt to try! When would be a good time to talk to her?"

"How about when you go home tonight, you goof? She's sleeping at the Pad tonight." Gabby smiled and stuck her tongue out at him.

Micky frowned. "Well if she's sleeping at the Pad, then where am I sleeping?"

"Weeeellllll, I was hoping I could coax you into my bed for the evening, so I took a flyer on it and told her it would be okay to commandeer your cot for the night. Is that okay with you?"

Micky reached for Gabby's hand and brought it to his mouth and kissed it gently. "Then what you really mean is I should ask her some other time and will I come home with you tonight, right? Pete's right. You women sure do talk in riddles sometimes."

"True. You got me there. Yes, I'd love for you to come home with me. Most likely she'll be going straight to work tomorrow morning, so it might be best if you drop in to the store and speak to her there, and maybe you can even score an introduction with the owner if you think you're ready for that. Bring Mike, too. Let him do his leader of the band thing. I think you guys ought to hang out at that store more. Wendy says there are always big musical acts stopping by to showcase their new albums and meet fans, and that that place is ground zero for the music scene. You should play groupies yourselves and see who you can meet while you're there."

"Good idea. As long as I don't have to sleep with anyone to make it big," Micky laughed.

"God forbid!"

* * *

Micky returned to the Pad the next morning and told Mike what Gabby had said about asking Wendy's boss about helping them make a demo of their new song. He said he reckoned there was no harm in asking, so they drove to Hollywood to visit Wendy at Wallichs Music City.

It was _the_ place to go for music – not just records, but sheet music, instruments, even concert tickets. It had created an innovative way of allowing its customers to discover and sample new music by wrapping albums in cellophane and put them in custom built display racks to allow browsing, plus it provided sound booths for listening to the records prior to purchase.

As Gabby had mentioned, all of the era's biggest acts made appearances at the store to debut and promote their records and to mingle with their fans.

The guys found Wendy helping a customer choose a record, and Mike did a slow burn as he noted that the customer was a particularly handsome guy about Wendy's age. She enjoyed watching Mike get jealous and took her time getting the customer settled with his final purchase. Once she completed the transaction, she sidled up to Mike and lifted up on tiptoe to offer herself for a kiss. He waited a moment, groaned, then his jealous resistance crumbled and he gathered her in his arms and gave her a big smooch and a hug. Micky was enjoying watching his gruff, usually commanding friend dissolve like cotton candy in the rain in Wendy's grip.

"What brings you boys to Wallichs?" Wendy chirruped.

Micky explained Gabby's suggestion about approaching the store owner about giving them a shot at auditioning for him to see if he'd be willing to finance their demo. Wendy looked skeptical.

"Guys, I hate to be a wet blanket, but this place is the real deal – they're affiliated with Capitol Records. It would be like you being a varsity high school baseball player and wanting to go straight to the starting lineup at Dodger Stadium. They usually don't go for untested amateurs. They're part of the machine, The Man, you know? But I tell you what, it won't hurt to ask. Let's go talk to my manager and see if we can get him to come to one of your gigs. That might convince him." She brought them with her to an office in the back of the store, told them to hang back a few paces and knocked on the door.

"Hey, Wendy. What can I do for you," asked a dark haired older guy sitting at a desk.

"Hi, Clyde. Can I introduce you to some special friends of mine who are in a band? They're looking for some financing to make a demo so they can shop it around at the Monterey Pop Festival since they've got backstage all-access, unless of course you and Glenn want to hop on it and get in on the ground floor."

"Well, Wendy, you know, we don't usually take a flyer on total amateurs. We get acts sniffing around here all the time looking for a break. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think it would be worth your while. In any case, can I at least introduce you to them? They're here and they could at least benefit from some of your wise words. Is that cool with you?"

"Sure, bring 'em in."

Wendy stepped back out of the office and ushered in Micky and Mike.

"Clyde Wallichs, meet Michael Nesmith and Micky Dolenz of the Monkees. That's with two E's. Mike's the lead guitarist and writes most of their songs, and Micky plays drums and has written a song that they want to record and demo for people at the Festival. Guys, this is Clyde Wallichs. He owns this music mecca with his brother Glenn. Glenn spends most of his time as an executive at Capitol Records now."

Clyde rose and shook their hands and offered them a seat on the couch in his office. He gave a sly look at Wendy and said "Okay, Wendy, which of these two handsome fellas is your boyfriend?"

"Clyde! You're such a jerk! Okay, it's Mike," she admitted with a giggle, and scooted him over and sat next to him and made Micky move over to take her chair. "But that's not what this is all about, honestly. I was attending their gigs every weekend for months before I even met them, just diggin' on their music and not even paying attention to them as attractive guys. I ain't no groupie, am I Micky?"

"Nope, that she isn't."

Wendy slyly added "And Micky knows all about groupies. I mean come on, Clyde, the band's got groupies! That means they've already got a following."

Mike spoke up now and took control, as was his usual habit. "Mr. Wallichs – "

"You can call me Clyde, Mike."

"Thanks, Clyde. Well, Clyde, we've been a band for about three years and we've got quite a big catalog of songs that I've mostly written, but we've got a tune that we've put together recently that we think is really a reflection of the times we're livin' in now and we think it will grab the kids and the slightly older demographic. It's about the war and a guy who's bein' shipped off the next mornin' but he wants to see his gal one more time before he goes. But it's not a depressin' song, it's more a protest and love song. It's got a drivin' beat and it leads off with a hot guitar lick that you'll remember like the one in the Beatles' _Paperback Writer_ and have stuck in your head the rest of the day after you've heard it the first time. When it comes on the radio, it'll catch listeners instantly and they'll jump and clap and no way will they be turnin' that dial."

"Well, you're quite the pitch man, Mike. But like I said, we get pitches all the time."

Micky spoke up now. "How about if you come to one of our gigs this weekend? We play Fridays and Saturdays at Cornwall's in Hollywood. We've got a contract with them, a steady gig, and a regular following. We could perform it live for you and then you can see if you want to commit to financing the demo. You don't have to sign us or anything. We'll take our chances on the open market at the Festival and pay you back for your studio time and the tapes, kind of like a loan. How does that sound?"

Clyde leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. He looked at Wendy, who was beseeching him with pleading eyes. Then he spoke.

"Okay, I'll come to a gig. Friday works best for me. If I like your sound, I'll front you the use of studio time. I'll also take first right of refusal on the song and pass it along to my brother, but I warn you not to hang too many hopes on that, and I encourage you to go to the Festival and work any connections you can make there."

Mike and Micky stood up and competed for who could shake Clyde's hand first and hardest. Wendy threw herself into his arms and gave him a big hug.

Mike said "Thank you, Clyde, I sure do appreciate your givin' us this opportunity to impress you. We'll see you at Cornwall's on Friday, then." Mike nodded, grinning and rocking back and forth on his heels, about as emotive as he usually got amongst strangers.

"Yeah, thanks, Clyde," echoed Micky. "I think you'll enjoy the gig. Spread the word, too, if anyone else from the store or your friends or associates wants to come."

"Okay, Micky. See you guys on Friday."

The guys and Wendy left the office and she walked them to the front of the store, took a look around to make sure Clyde wasn't anywhere nearby, and then she exploded with a cheer and hugged them both.

"This is so great, guys! See, I can make a contribution to your future after all. We really _are_ life partners, Mike!"

Micky chipped in, "Hey, don't forget to include Gabby in that kudos. She's the one who told me to come talk to you. She knew you had the makings of a little record producer in you," he grinned and chucked her under the chin.

Mike lifted Wendy off the ground and gave her a hug and a kiss. "Thanks, darlin'. This is huge. Even if it doesn't work out, I'm real proud of you, and real grateful. I feel like we're gettin' somewhere, with Micky writin' the song and you tryin' to think of ways to get it recorded. We're gonna find a way to make our dreams come true. All of 'em." He said that last sentence with some private meaning that only he and Wendy comprehended, but Micky knew it probably had something to do with finally moving out of the Pad, maybe getting married, and settling down and starting a life together.

Wendy said "We're a family, Mike, all of us. You and the guys, me, Gabby, Dawn, and even Lynda. We all want to pull together to move things forward so we can all be happy and have our hearts' desires. We'll get there. Now scram before I lose my job and you've got me sleeping in the bathtub at the Pad!"

The guys left the store and took a moment to hug and Mike gave a loud "Yeee-haw!" as he strutted over to the driver's side. They celebrated by stopping at a hotdog stand at the beach and toasting with a couple of dogs with the works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	54. Chapter 54

Everyone was keyed up for the Friday night gig. Mike told the guys to cool it with their girlfriends and get ready to practice all day Thursday and Friday so that they could perfect their set list. The only one who wasn't gutted by this moratorium on sex and romantic affection was Davy, who took great glee in the irony of the situation, since at the moment he didn't have a steady girl, having finally made a conscious choice to forego his girl-of-the-week habits, much to everyone's approval, but especially Lynda. Nowadays he spent most of his free time with Micky or one of the other guys (when they weren't hanging around with their girls), or he took a bash at learning the bass, which Pete had been trying to teach him, or he rode horses in the hills of Malibu, getting back in touch with a passion he had as a lad when he was training as an apprentice jockey, before he came to America. In a way, he was living his life in a manner similar to how Gabby and Micky were, taking time for self-care, introspection, friendships and career building. He was becoming more well-rounded and more content.

Thursday night, around 7 p.m., Gabby came home from a long day finalizing a story for the paper and turning in her copy, then meeting with the students at UCLA. She was ready to get into her jammies, eat some leftovers, have a glass of wine and disappear into her latest mystery book. But when she walked in the door, Wendy and Dawn descended upon her like a plague of locusts and dragged her into the living room.

Wendy shouted "Oh, thank goodness you're home, Gabby, Micky's been calling every fifteen minutes for the last hour and a half! He wants you to call him right away!"

Gabby frowned and inquired "Did he say what's up? Is he okay? Is he hurt?" Now her stomach started to clench and she was beginning to panic. "Is there something wrong with one of the guys?"

Wendy shrugged her shoulders and said "I don't think it's to do with one of the guys, or he'd have told Dawn or me. I think it must be something concerning him. Anyway, you're here now. Call him right away."

Dawn and Wendy sat down on the couch, openly prepared to eavesdrop, and Gabby decided not to argue with them for privacy. She dialed up the Pad and got Micky on the first ring.

"Gabby, oh thank God you've finally called! I've been going out of my mind waiting to speak to you!" cried Micky. His voice was at least an octave higher than normal and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

"Micky, Micky, I'm here. What's going on? Tell me. Tell Momma."

"Gabby, please don't be pissed at me, please don't be angry, please don't leave me for doing what I have to do. It's not my idea. I don't want to do it, but the guys say I have to do it." Micky pleaded and whined.

"Okay, Micky. Take a deep breath and blow it out again. Okay? I want to hear you do it. Take a deep breath and then exhale." She waited and listened for him to inhale and exhale. "Okay, now start at the beginning and tell me what you're talking about. What do the guys want you to do?"

"Well, we met with Wendy's boss from Wallichs and he's coming to the gig tomorrow night, and Mike called a heads up meeting at the end of today's practice to strategize for the gig."

"Yeah, you told me about that guy, Micky. I'm with you so far."

"So Mike mentioned that we need to really impress this guy Clyde, the guy from Wallichs, and he was repeating to the other guys everything we said in our pitch meeting, including the part that Wendy said about how we're such an established, popular group that we already have a following and that we have our own groupies."

"Yeah, so..."

"So Mike said we need to play that up as a selling point, that we're marketable and already have a potential audience out there for our music. And he said we need to make nice with the groupies. Like reeeeeeaaaaaal nice. Like not exactly pretend we don't have girlfriends, because Clyde knows Wendy's dating Mike because he figured that out during our meeting with him and she admitted it, but he wants the rest of us guys to mingle with the groupies and let them come on to us like they normally want to but we haven't been letting them since we met you girls. Even he's gonna let them come on to him if they want to, though he's pretty sure they won't, given his track record. But he especially wants me and Davy to do the Casanova bit like we used to. Davy's kind of reformed himself and given that up lately, but he's willing to take one for the team of course, but when I told Mike I wouldn't do it, he leaned on me awful hard and said I had to do it, and instead of the other guys backing me up, they sided with Mike. They said I had to do it for the good of the band, and that it's just for this one night and what's the big deal?

"And Gabby, you and I _know_ what's the big deal! We know, but I don't think they know, though Mike should at least know part of it because he knows I got groped that night in the bathroom and he saw what a mess I was. But he thinks I don't want to do it because I'm scared you'll get jealous and angry and dump me. But it's not just about you and me. I know if you thought our careers were on the line and I had to pretend for a night to let the groupies dig me, you'd let me, but Gabby, I'm terrified of those chicks. I've been groped and stalked and they've watched you and me have sex and they've followed us to the diner and they've scoped me out surfing on the beach and they tried to intimidate you by staring you down on the beach, and fuck they just make me have a panic attack even thinking about them.

"How am I supposed to sing that new song, or any of our songs for that matter, when I'm terrified of the crowd in front of the stage, knowing I have to walk into the lion's den and get groped and ripped apart and God knows what? I'm gonna blow our big chance and the Wallichs guy isn't going to let us make our demo in his studio, and he sure isn't gonna sign us. Gabby, I don't know what to do. If I go along with their plan, I'll have a nervous breakdown. And if I don't go along with it, they'll hate me and hold it against me if we don't get the guy to support us and say it's because I didn't let the groupies grope me. I can't win!"

"Okay, Micky. I understand the dynamic now. I want you to just try to calm down. You just hang in there and don't say another word about it to the guys for now. Okay? I am going to round up the girls, including Lynda if I can get her, and we are going to come over to the Pad and have a family discussion about this decision. Because like Mike says, we're life partners. And like Wendy says, we're all a family now, and the decisions we make affect everyone, all of us. Don't say anything about it to any of the guys. Just go for a walk on the beach and get some air or go to your room and read one of your cool new books, and keep to yourself for now. We'll be there as soon as we can. Okay? Can you do that?"

"Okay, Gabby. Thanks. You truly are my everything."

"This time, Micky, it's not just you and me who are one. It's this whole damned Monkees family. And we are not going to let this stand. Just hang on. We'll get there as soon as we can. I love you. Bye."

Gabby hung up the phone, counted to ten, and then rounded on Wendy. She took a deep breath and said "Wendy, I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had no idea on this Earth the trouble you were going to cause by telling your boss that the Monkees were so popular that they had groupies. But you've inadvertently set off a huge explosion in our cozy family, and I need yours and Dawn's help to clean up the mess. We need to go to the Pad right now. I'll explain on the way there. Are you girls with me?"  
  


Wendy and Dawn just nodded their heads and grabbed their purses.

"I want to try to get Lynda on the phone and include her in this discussion. She may not be dating Davy anymore, but she's still part of our family, and she's a calming influence on him and may be able to knock some sense into him and the other guys. Let me give her a quick call."

Gabby was able to get Lynda on the phone, tersely explained it was an emergency and she was needed for a group meeting at the Pad and that all would be explained on the drive up there. Lynda agreed to let the girls pick her up on the way to Malibu.

The girls arrived at the Pad at about 8:30 p.m. Micky, who had been pacing the street in front of the Pad, rushed to meet them and usher them inside. He took a moment to hug Gabby and clutch her fiercely, as if she were a life raft in a choppy sea in the middle of a hurricane. She stroked his hair and neck and shushed him and said "It's going to be okay, my Micky. We're here. We're here to stand with you and we won't let you down."

She turned to the girls and said "Are we clear on our position, girls?" They all nodded and each gave Micky a hug, then walked into the Pad.

Micky called the guys down to the big room, saying the girls were there for a family meeting. Peter was thrilled to see Dawn and loped over to her like a puppy greeting its master after a long day apart. Mike was surprised to see Wendy and immediately wary of the setup and reason for her visit, particularly in the company of the other girls. He also wondered what the hell Lynda was there for. Davy was surprised to see Lynda, but greeted her cordially with a hug. Gabby had a fierce look on her face and Micky looked like he was feeling a bit seasick and about to lose his dinner.

Mike asked "What's goin' on here? What's the purpose of this meetin' and how come you girls are callin' a meetin' here? That's kind of unprecedented."

Gabby stepped forward and said "Mike, you've been teaching Wendy about being life partners, and Wendy's been talking about all of us as a family for some time, and talking about how our fortunes are all linked and interdependent on each other. Like when Peter and Dawn got engaged, you lectured us all about how they shouldn't have done it without consulting everyone else. We all talked about how we have to make sure that the decisions we make don't cause any harm to the group as a whole or any one person or couple. Well, Micky called me to tell me about the meeting you guys had today and he informed me of a decision you guys made that's causing him great harm and that's causing me harm as well. Not to mention the fact that I think it's going to cause the band as a whole harm, and I'd appreciate it if y'all would sit down and hear me out and let me explain my position."

"Now Gabby," Mike began to argue, "I know you're an advocate and that you're used to convincin' people of your position, but this ain't no democracy, this is a band that's been doin' just fine for the three years before you girls came along, and..."

Gabby snapped back "And what, Mike? And now that you all have us girls in your life you don't care about how your professional decisions affect us? So all that life partnership talk of yours is just a bunch of bullshit? And all that wanting to be helpmeets and give each other support in each other's careers is also a bunch of horse shit? You wouldn't even have this opportunity if it weren't for Wendy's savvy and connections. So I reckon she's got a right to a say in how this band operates to a certain degree now, and she feels the same way as I do on this issue and I'm speaking on her behalf."

Mike looked over at Wendy and she nodded firmly.

Gabby continued to fight for the right to advocate her position and place it before the group. "I know what makes Micky function at his best, and nobody knows him better than I do, and that includes you, no matter what you may think. You've been replaced in that department. I'm in his head and his heart and you just damn well better get used to it. We've lived through things together now that gives me insight into him that you don't have. So please, Mike, get off your high horse and hear me out. If after you've listened to me you want to be a stubborn ass, that's your decision. But I insist that you hear me out."

Wendy stepped forward and said "Michael, how about it? Have you been shining me on with all that life partner stuff? Are you going to walk your talk or not? I'm with Gabby on this one."

Mike looked at Wendy and his resolve to be the autocratic band leader crumbled. He knew he was cornered. He had been standing in his famous defiant cocked hip position, which he now shifted to a less confrontational stance.

He dropped his hand from his hip, let his arms hang slack by his sides and just flailed them out and said "Okay, you're right. Let's hear it, Gabby."

Everyone took a seat on the chairs and couches in the big room and Gabby began to lay out her concerns.

"Micky called me in a panic tonight to tell me that you all put the heavy on him, telling him he's got to mingle with the groupies at Friday's gig to impress this Wallichs guy to get it across to him that you guys are an established band with a built-in following. Now I understand your logic, and in theory it makes sense. But it doesn't make sense for Micky. I'm not sure whether you guys were operating with a full set of facts when you made this decision. If you were, you're a bunch of heartless, selfish, cruel bastards. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you didn't all know the full story and now I'm going to lay it on you."

Gabby wasn't sure who knew what details of Micky's trauma, so she recounted for all the guys exactly how Micky had been groped in the men's room by Sally from Simpsons (glaring at Mike who she knew damn well was aware of at least that part of the story because he was a part of it, and he had at least the good grace to look ashamed of himself). Then she told the guys about how Sally had stalked Micky both at the store and on the beach and had also stalked Gabby there, and how her friends had enabled her to do so by stalking them at Ed's. Finally, she recounted in a very shaky voice that somebody, she knew not which of those girls, but she suspected Sally, had been standing at the window of the Pad and watched her and Micky have sex in the moonlight on the couch.

By now, Micky was quietly sobbing and Lynda had her arms around him and was comforting him, rocking him back and forth and patting his back. The guys looked aghast and ashen. Lynda spoke up. "Mike, you should be ashamed of yourself. Micky came running to you the minute he got groped by that girl, so you know how traumatized he was. And Davy, you told me yourself that you knew Micky was on the ropes. You said he was a tortured mess. Even if you guys didn't have all the details or know much about the other stuff, that should have been enough for you to respect Micky's concerns as legitimate."

Mike and Davy exchanged looks of consternation, embarrassment and shame.

Gabby resumed her impassioned speech. "Micky has been traumatized beyond reason. Ever since he got assaulted in the bathroom, he's insisted that I attend every gig and stand very close to the stage, just so that he can function. Now how the hell do you think he's going to sing your damn demo song or any of your songs well enough to impress this Wallichs guy if he's fretting about how he's going to have to subject himself to the wild, ungovernable groping and dirty talk of these groupies? He's just not capable of that anymore. He's changed – he's not a groupie groper and he's not a smooth talker and he's not a pickup artist anymore. He can't play the game. He's been through too much and he's scarred by it all. If he were a woman, you wouldn't even think about asking him to take one for the team. You'd send him to group therapy and leave him the fuck alone. Why should it be any different because he's a man?"

Mike asked skeptically "Are you sure this has nothing to do with you being jealous about those groupies and the fact that that's why you didn't want to date Micky in the first place, because of his reputation with those groupies, Gabby?"

Gabby rounded on Mike with a face of fury. "How _dare_ you, Mike? How fucking _dare_ you? You think this is about me? About my ego or my insecurity? I'd let Micky wag his dick on stage if it meant a recording contract for you guys if that's what he wanted to do! Micky has said he doesn't want to do this. He has not given his consent. I'm protecting Micky because I care about his soul and his sanity! And because I've been through what he's been through. I've walked a mile in his shoes. I've been raped and sodomized against my will by my last boyfriend, Nick. I've been manipulated by that narcissistic bastard and made a prisoner of his egotistical, cruel, demeaning mind games. I will not let anyone do that to Micky. He says the answer is no, and that should be good enough for you guys. No means no. Period, end of discussion, whether you're a man or a woman. What you guys want to do to him is tantamount to what Nick did to me, and I won't allow it."

The room went deadly silent, as everyone digested this serious new information about Gabby and her past. Wendy and Dawn were especially shocked, realizing for the first time that they had heard her story before but never the complete version. Her motives having been questioned in a fairly glib way by Mike, she had felt she needed to reveal her most secret, personal information in defense of the man she loved. That couldn't have been what she had wanted or intended to do when she called this meeting, and everyone stopped and took stock of the delicate and overexposed territory the discussion had veered off into.

Finally, Micky spoke. "Guys, I'm not going to let Gabby be the heavy and I'm not going to let you dump all over her. I'm sorry she felt she had to spill all that private, secret information about herself. I should have been more of a man and just told you no in no uncertain terms. But I'm telling you now. I won't do it. I can't do it. I don't care if you think it's a good idea. I'm telling you on balance it's a terrible idea. I can't sing those songs knowing I'm stepping into the lion's den before the show and during the break and after the show. You're better off letting me off the hook and telling the guy I'm queer or something. Or that I'm married. Or I'll fake the flu and just spend my time in the can with Gabby guarding the door. But I'm not going to wade into the groupie pit. I want to give my all to the songs. That's the reason why I joined the band. To sing the songs and make the music. That's why we want this guy to give us a chance. This isn't about sex appeal. It's about the music."

The room was silent for a few minutes. Finally, Davy spoke up. "Mike, Micky's made his position clear, and even though it doesn't matter that I do, I agree with him. Even if I didn't agree with him, I'd still respect his decision. But I do agree with him, and I agree with Gabby." Davy faced Micky with a look of true remorse. "Micky, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry." Then he swung around to face Mike with an impish grin on his face. "Looks like you're gonna just have to step up and pick up his slack with the groupies, Mike. Better get those sideburns trimmed and make yourself look real desirable. Lay on that Texas accent real thick. That drives the chicks crazy. Right, Wendy?" Davy now had a wicked gleam in his eye, contemplating Mike wading into the groupie pit, something he knew didn't appeal to Mike either.

Wendy smiled at Davy and said "Oh, yeah, for sure. That accent is a panty dropper for sure."

Dawn gave Peter a piercing glare and said "What do you say, fiancé?"

Peter gulped and said "I think whatever you think, Dawn."

Dawn said "Well I think we oughta go whole hog and get Mike a haircut as well. He's looking a little shaggy. And those pants he wears onstage don't look tight enough."

Now Mike was feeling like a piece of prime rib on a slab. He also didn't appreciate them talking about him as if he weren't in the room.

"Hold up there, girls. How come I've got to change mah whole look?"

Wendy said "Well, it's like you told me when we first met. The groupies don't generally go for you because the other guys get all the attention, so we need to make sure they notice you really well. So we've got to spiff you up and make all your best features stand out. I also think some tighter pants are in order. Highlight that extraordinary package you've got. Lynda, has your boutique got a tailor in-house who can get Mike's pants altered right away?"

Lynda assured her "Yes. I think we can manage that."

Wendy nodded and requested "Think you can also take him someplace to get him cut and trimmed?"

Lynda rubbed her hands together with glee. "I'm always up for a challenge. I can take care of our friend here. You leave it to me. I'll take him to my hair salon to get him beautified."

Mike groaned and then glared at Micky, who was now grinning at the turn of events. Gabby caught sight of Mike's rancorous look and decided to head off any aggression. "Mike, I think you owe Micky an apology at least for the fact that you knew he had been assaulted and you were still willing to throw him to the she-wolves, even if you didn't know all that other stuff. I'm real disappointed in you for that."

Mike's face fell and he looked ashamed of himself. He held out his hand to Micky and said "I'm powerful sorry, Micky. I had mah head up mah ass, askin' you to do somethin' that was so against the grain for you after that happened to you. I wasn't thinkin' straight. I was just thinkin' about the band and it didn't occur to me that you might be sayin' no for that reason. I thought it was because you thought Gabby might get pissed and jealous. But even if that was the reason, I still shouldn'ta tried to force it on you. Gabby's got a way of makin' us see things in a different light. I think that's why she's gonna be a great leader someday." He met her gaze with frank appreciation and a look of respect and admiration. "I'm sorry, Gabby. I shouldn'ta spoken to you like that, and I shouln'ta questioned your motives either. Please forgive me. And please forgive me for makin' you feel like you had to spill all that personal stuff about yourself."

"It's okay, Mike. We're family. It's okay that you know that about me. If it helps you understand who I am and what Micky's going through, then it's worth it." She reached out for him and hugged him. He leaned down and returned the hug and whispered into her ear "I'm real sorry." She patted his back reassuringly.

Gabby cleared her throat and said "Okay, family, so can we agree now that we make decisions with everyone in mind, and if necessary, we call meetings that include all of us? I'm not saying the band has to consult us females on every move it makes, but if one of us gets wind of something that doesn't sit right with us and it threatens the ecosystem of our group, we'd like the opportunity to be heard. Deal?"

Everyone nodded.

Gabby looked around and said "We are one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	55. Chapter 55

Everyone met extra early at Cornwall's to make sure everything was in good order. When Wendy spotted Mike, with his hair and sideburns neatly trimmed and his pants looking snug and hugging him in all the right places, she screamed like a teenybopper, made a run for him and jumped into his arms. With a stunned but pleasantly surprised look on his face, he caught her and she wrapped her legs around his waist and began to kiss him passionately, whispering into his ear "Hey, big fella, got a date for after the show?" He responded, "Well, I'm kind of committed to layin' my body out on a platter for a few dozen groupies, but once I get done with them, I'll be free." Wendy giggled and said "Good, I can't wait to peel those skintight pants off of you!"

Micky sought out Gabby and gave her an appreciative look. She had taken extra care with her outfit and grooming, in the hopes that she could help keep Micky's mind focused on her and not whatever flavor of anxiety he might be hosting a party for in his head. She had on a slinky silver lame tank dress covered with large paillette sequins that shimmered as they caught the light. Her earrings were a cascade of large rhinestones that hung down nearly to shoulders and accentuated her strong upper body that Micky admired so much and loved to worship with his mouth. Her makeup was extra dramatic. She had covered her eyelids with silver eye shadow and black eyeliner extended into a cat eye swoop, and she'd used extra mascara. 

Finally, she applied deep red lipstick that drew attention right where she wanted him to be looking, unless he was looking at her breasts, which would be fine with her, since the dress had a fairly low neckline. She wore silver ballet flats so that she'd be comfortable standing near the stage all night if necessary to reassure Micky and also so that she could hold her ground if any groupie tried to elbow her out of the way.

Micky took Gabby in his arms and gave her an appreciative once over from top to toe. "Gabriella, you look gorgeous. You're a wonderful lady and you're mine, all mine."

"Thank you, my Micky. I wanted you to be thinking about me tonight while you play your music and not worry about anything else. Just think pleasant thoughts and sing the beautiful music with your gorgeous voice. I'll be right there with you. We'll always be one no matter what. How do you feel?"

Micky took a big breath and exhaled. "I feel pretty great, actually. I feel liberated. Not just from having to mingle with the groupies tonight. I feel like those things you said last night helped me clear my head up in general. I don't feel as freaked out as I have been lately. It's like you told me about writing in your journal. You get all the junk out of your head and onto the page, get it out there and look at it and see it for what it is, and it doesn't haunt you as much and you can let go of it."

"That's right. That's how it felt for me. I'm glad you got some relief today. Maybe you should buy a journal, too. It's cheaper than a shrink!" Gabby and Micky laughed together. He gave her a playful but stern look and said "I'm not letting you off the hook on that one, though. I still think you could benefit from that."

"Yeah, I know. I'm on it. Once my health insurance kicks in."

Micky gathered Gabby into his arms and hugged her tight. "Oh, Gabby, aren't we a pair of nuts?"

She murmured into his chest and corrected him, "Highly functioning nuts, Micky. Don't forget that. We do just fine going about the business of living. You're gonna be just fine tonight. Right?"

"Right. I feel like I can just sing and be myself, a man in love doing what he loves best. Thank you for helping me be that man."

She said nothing but just lifted her head up and silently requested a kiss. He gave her a scorcher and then said "I've got to get up there now. I'll be looking for you like a silver beacon of hope and love."

"I'll be there, Micky. Break a leg."

He gave her one more quick kiss and strode buoyantly towards the bandstand.

Gabby hung back near the bar and watched the guys set up their equipment. A guy came in the door and shook hands with the guys. She wondered whether to go over to poke her nose in but decided to just stay out of it. She didn't want to piss Mike off and wanted to keep the demarcation line clear between what was her business and what wasn't with regard to the band. She saw Wendy speaking with him, so she intuited that the guy must be her boss who was going to be auditioning the band. She reflected on how Wendy had taken a huge step forward in her professional development and maturity lately, and beamed in gratification and pride in her old friend's apparent personal growth.

Gabby noted with amusement that while Peter and Davy were happily wading into the groupie pit, Mike was still onstage looking awkward and stiff. Davy spotted Mike hanging back and literally pulled him down from the stage and into the pit with him, then pushed him into the arms of three girls whose eyes were glazed over with desire and lust. They soon were running their fingers through Mike's sideburns and hair, and one of them had plucked off his wool hat and was wearing it as her fingers inched their way up his chest. Wendy looked on from the side of the stage with amusement and only a tiny hint of insecurity, but she concealed it well and was gesturing to the frenzy and chatting about it with her boss with the obvious intent of talking up the band's popularity with him. Micky had retreated for the moment to the dressing room, and Peter had agreed to fetch him when it was time to start the show.

Eventually, the guys were all on stage and ready to start. Dawn, Lynda and Robert arrived, and they joined Gabby near the front of the stage. Robert was jazzed that the Monkees were being given an opportunity to take a step forward in their quest for bigger things in their career, and took a quick moment to wish them well before the show started. Then the music began. Mike had front-loaded the concert with all their best tunes just in case the guy from Wallichs didn't want to hang around for both sets. They sang a few songs to warm up the crowd and get them into a frenzy, then Mike let them know that they had a new tune to debut.

"Hey, everybody, our own Micky Dolenz has written a brand new tune that we think y'all are gonna love. Please put your hands together for Micky, singin' a song we hope you're gonna be hearin' on the radio someday soon, Last Train To Clarksville!

Mike immediately swung into his opening guitar lick and the room was silent for just those few bars – then the room went wild. A roar of approval went up and then the joint was jumping. Micky closed his eyes and let loose with the vocals. It was a sight to behold, watching Micky disappear into the song, become one with the music and let all of his earthly cares and worries melt away. Gabby shivered and shook as she watched him transform into the confident, happy, talented Micky he had been when she first met him, and she hoped he could find his way back to that place again on a more permanent basis. She was glad to see him dwelling there if only for a moment in time. As he got to the portion of the song where he was scatting "doo doo doo doo doo," the audience paused their dancing and leaned in to listen as if on edge, waiting for Micky to release them from a spell. When he returned to the verse, the room exploded again, arms began to swing and dancers gyrated once more and the beat carried them out of their temporary trances and once more into the rhythm. It was a remarkable melding of music, audience and magic.

The song ended and the guys took their first break. Back down into the groupie pit they went, though this time, Mike made his excuses that he needed to go talk to Clyde as leader of the band and broke away with his hat still on his head this time. He scurried over to Clyde and Wendy just as a groupie was grabbing his ass and he jumped a few inches in the air. Wendy burst out laughing and Mike gave her an evil glare until she rearranged her face into something more resembling sympathy for him.

Mike took Clyde over to the bar and bought him a drink. The two chatted for the duration of the break, as Wendy stayed glued to Mike's side and refused to let him dominate the conversation or freeze her out. This was partly her business deal now, and she was going to ride it all the way to glory if it worked out well. In truth, Mike appreciated her presence since she was a much better conversationalist and already had a rapport with Clyde. Clyde said he was very much enjoying the show and decided he'd hang around for the next set. He told Mike to go ahead and take his break and he'd catch up with him and the other guys after the show. Wendy gave Mike the nod to leave and she stayed with Clyde chatting amiably.

Gabby slipped into the dressing room and found Micky kicking back on the couch. She had a soda in her hand and gave it to Micky.

"Thanks, babe. I could use some sugar fortification. That last set was a rush and I'm kind of beat. Man! Did you feel the buzz? Did you feel us surfing the wave on that last song?"

She sat down on his lap and put her arms around his shoulders and said "Yes, Micky, I totally felt it. You were in the other dimension with Rod Serling. It was an amazing sight. Where were you in your mind? Where did you go?"

"That's amazing that you could see that. I _was_ in another place. I was riding that motorcycle with my cousin George. We were riding through the hills of Malibu, just getting lost on the roads with no place in particular to go and no time we needed to be anywhere. Just me and him and the wind in our faces, just hanging out together and being happy and both of us feeling so alive." Micky leaned back with Gabby cradled in his arms, a look of bliss on his face and a wide smile creasing his lips.

She kissed each of his cheeks and said "That's beautiful, Micky. I'm so glad you were able to summon up that image. Maybe with some of your me time when we're not together you can finish up that motorcycle. Maybe after the Festival. And then we can take that ride, or you can take it with one of the guys. I'll bet Mike and Davy are both salivating at the opportunity to take that baby out for a ride."

Micky just smiled, closed his eyes and said "Hmmm, that would be nice. I've been meaning to do that. That's gotta be next on the list." He laid his head back on the couch lost in thought for a few moments. Suddenly he sat up and looked at Gabby and said "You. You are the most amazing person I've ever known, Gabby. You make me a better man. You're not even in it for yourself. You suggest things to me that I should do or say that don't even necessarily benefit you. You just want me to do them because they'd make me happy or healthy." He kissed her gently, then more and more passionately, until she thought she might start tearing his clothes off.

"Micky, wow. What, where, who, why?"

"Because I love you, and because you do things to me that I can't not feel whenever I feel them, and I just wanted you to know that. I want you, after the show. Will you give yourself to me?"

"Yes, Micky. You can have me. You can do whatever you want and I'm yours."

"Good. Now I can do the rest of the show and I know exactly what I'll be thinking of when I'm singing the rest of the songs." He held her gaze with a look in his eye that spoke of lust and love and want and need. He gave her one more long, complicated kiss and then lifted her up off the sofa and into his arms, then placed her down on the ground. They left the dressing room arm and arm and she walked him back up to the stage.

The rest of the show went well, though Gabby didn't have much conscious recall of it. Now she was the one who was in a fantasy land, wondering what Micky was thinking about and what he had in mind for her after the show. After they finished their gig, the guys took one more dive into the groupie pit, minus Micky, who went over to Clyde to chat with him and Wendy, and then the guys all gathered on stage with Micky and Clyde to talk. Clyde told them they could have the recording studio and said to get in touch with him on Monday to reserve blocks of time. He would take them through an orientation session and then leave them to it. His only condition was that Wendy had to be part of every phase of the demo creation. Mike gave Wendy a stern look that said "I'll talk to you later, girl!" and Mike said he agreed that Wendy was an integral part of the band's recording process. Wendy had a look of smug satisfaction on her face and stuck her tongue out at Mike from behind Clyde's back.

Clyde said goodnight to everyone and the guys broke down the equipment and carried it out to the Monkeemobile. As everyone milled around for the now ritual after-gig planning and sorting of who was going and sleeping where, Mike approached Wendy wagging his finger at her with a half-smile on his face and a look of mock frustration.

"You need a good spankin' lil girl. Where do you get off bargin' in to our recordin' sessions?"

Wendy planted her feet and put her hands on her hips in her classic maverick pose and said "Listen, my cowboy lover boy, you wouldn't be _having_ those sessions without me, so that's how."

Mike shook his head and said "Next thing I know, you're gonna be edgin' me out and tellin' me I'm not the group's manager anymore."

Wendy said "Oh, you're not the manager, you're the leader. But someday I _will_ be the manager."

Mike bent down and went nose to nose with her and said "You gone _loco_ , little girl?"

Wendy reached up and stroked his newly trimmed sideburns and said "Mmmmm, looks real nice. How about you come home with me and I'll treat you to this new type of relaxation therapy Gabby told me about. It's an Ayurvedic hydrotherapy. That will calm you down and make you see things much differently."

Mike's eyebrows rose with bewilderment and intrigue and said "Okay, but it better not involve anymore foolin' around with mah hair. I've had enough of that for a while."

Wendy looked at Gabby and they both burst into raunchy, hilarious laughter.

Robert and Lynda said goodnight and took off. Dawn, Peter, Wendy and Mike piled into the girls' car and headed for West L.A. Davy had apparently backslid and went for broke, allowing an entire harem of groupies take him with them to their next stop for the night, the guys knew not where. So Micky and Gabby had the Pad to themselves, quite unusually.

As usual, Micky and Gabby did the grunt work first of unpacking the instruments, despite their carnal cravings. Then they took a shower and washed off the grunge of the gig. Gabby was about to mount the stairs when Micky grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder and dashed up the stairs with her, claiming her caveman style. He tossed her on his bed and scooted Mike's bed over next to his to make one big bed. She laid there on her back, leaning on her elbows, running her hands over her skin, which was twitching in anticipation. Micky stopped and noticed what her hands were doing and was suddenly riveted to their motion. He stood at the end of the bed, folded his arms and just watched her, nodding his head silently as if to say "carry on."

She brought her hands up to her breasts and circled them with her fingertips, then down to her belly, then traced her waistline back up to her breasts and up her neck to her ears and down to her throat. She wasn't necessarily focused on her erogenous zones. She was framing her body parts for Micky with her hands, featuring all the spots she knew he wanted to touch and kiss and ravish. She let her hands stray down her thighs and then spread her legs and showed Micky all her glory. By now he was breathing erratically and his eyes were glazed over. He was leaning in towards her but still with his arms folded and he almost lost his balance, so mesmerized was he. She raised one leg up and ran her hands from her toes down to the top of her thigh. Then she laid that leg down on the bed and repeated the movement on the other one. She knew that Micky could see her coochie as she did this, and her butt cheeks as well.

Now she rolled over on her stomach and said "Mmmm, I could really use some help reaching the back part of my skin. Want to give me a hand?"

Micky came out of his trance and straddled her. He massaged her shoulders and upper back, then took his fingers and traced the line of the outside of her breasts which were flattened and protruding from her figure. He stroked the sides of her breasts, then ran his fingers down to her waist, then to her hips. He said "Gabby, I want you to trust me. I'm going to touch your ass, but I'm not going to hurt you. Okay?"

"Okay, Micky. I said you could have all of me, and I meant it. I trust you. Do what you will."

Micky sighed and took a deep breath. He ran his finger down her spine and let it go right down her butt crack all the way down to her coochie, which he gave a gentle swipe at. He kneaded her butt cheeks and petted them. He paid tribute to them. He didn't go near her ass hole or do anything that would trigger her, but he felt she had been missing out on something erotic and a touch that she would enjoy if she could trust him to let her give it to her.

"How did that feel, my Gabby? Talk to me."

She sighed and moaned a bit and said "It felt nice, gentle, it tickled a little. I liked it. Would you do it again, please?"

Micky's face broke into a smile and said "Of course, my Gabby. It will be my pleasure to give you pleasure," and he repeated the whole process, this time using his fingernails on her skin and ending with some gentle kisses on each butt cheek. Then he crawled up to her face and kissed her on the ear and whispered "Thank you for trusting me. I'm returning that trust to you in pristine condition, I hope."

"Yes, you are. I didn't doubt it for a minute." She turned her head and silently requested a kiss, which he gave her. He flipped her on her back and they began to kiss very deeply and passionately. The emotion of having crossed another bridge of trust made them both feel emotional and horny simultaneously. It was like they were ready to climb to greater heights now.

Their limbs got tangled in each other and Micky maneuvered them so that he was on the bottom and she could climb aboard him. He wanted her to get the utmost pleasure, and he had another idea in mind that he had been wanting to try out. He didn't know if it would work or if it was possible, but he always had that questing mind. Gabby mounted his penis and let it slide deep inside her. She raised herself up and down on it, then settled down on Micky's chest and together they produced a tremendous, gorgeous orgasm for her.

She was panting and moaning and about to move to change positions to attend to him when he stayed her movements and said "No, don't move. Stay there. I think you've got more gas in your tank, Gabby. Let's see what you've got." He took his arms and squeezed her butt and massaged it and moved his pelvis again and raised her up and undulated together with her, and she understood what he was getting at. He wanted to give her another orgasm. So she bore down on him and squeezed and shifted her body and within seconds another one was upon her. It wasn't as strong as the first one, but it was there and it made her tingle and moan and come undone again. He gave her a moment to rest and then he repeated the process again, so she went with it and decided to see how long this could last. She perceived that Micky had his mad scientist's hat on and he was going for broke.

Each orgasm was fainter than the first one, but after all was said and done, she had had eight orgasms, one right after the other. She probably could have had more, but her arms and hips were getting exhausted and she also felt like she was on the verge of madness. She begged Micky to call it a day and save the Guinness Book of World Records performance for someone else. He laughed and relented.

She asked him in a weary, small voice "How is it that you're still rock hard and rarin' to go, Micky? That's worthy of calling the Guinness folks in and of itself."

"I'm in it to win it, Gabby. You drive me mad with lust and want and need, and I wanted to see what would happen if we tried that, and you just gave me another fantasy come true. Now can I take you any way I want to?"

"Yes, I'm at your mercy. You've made sure of that. I'm like a wet noodle."

"Okay, then you just lie there and I'll make it real easy for you." He turned her on her side and entered her vagina from behind, molding their bodies together. He wasn't rough with her, but it wasn't a gentle, quiet ride either. It was frenzied and exciting and wild, and Gabby laughed and cheered Micky on. He couldn't resist letting his fingers stray to her love button and give her one more orgasm, which she sighed and feebly moaned her way through just as he was shouting out his. She moved his hand away from her overly sensitive nether parts, so he let them stray northward to her breasts instead. He was absolutely fucking insatiable. He knew he was going to want to take her again as soon as she recovered, but he took mercy on her for now. He'd let her sleep for a while. They dozed off, still spooning together.

The morning sun began to shine through the window and aimed a beam onto their heads, warming them in a comforting hug, a similar feeling like they had in Palm Springs. Micky awoke remembering that feeling and looked at Gabby, who was still fast asleep. He had a raging hard-on and was hoping she'd help him out with it. He stroked her body to wake her gently.

"Gabby, are you asleep?"

"Micky, you know goddamn well I'm asleep. Or I was asleep, but now I'm not. What's up?"

"My dick is up. It's wide awake. It's calling your name. What should I do about that?"

"My Micky, what do you do on the days I'm not here?"

"I jack off."

"Well you do owe me a jack-off session from back in Palm Springs."

"Yeah, but I'm not wasting this kind of wood on that. It needs a more vigorous workout. It needs something creative and exotic and tantric. What if I just let you sleep and I do all the work?"

"Sure, okay, that sounds fair. You go at it, Micky, and I'll just lie here like a corpse. If you're into necromancy, then that's your bag. Just don't wake the neighbors. I love you. Goodnight."

Micky giggled and gave some thought to how he wanted to approach the situation. He was behind Gabby, but they'd already done that. He wanted something different and definitely tutti frutti. So he changed the angle by 45 degrees and slid into her from the side, with their legs scissored over each other. He had checked her situation to make sure that she had some lubrication. Apparently she wasn't as asleep as she was pretending, because she was already soaking wet. Then he began to plunge in and out of her. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the slick feeling of entering and withdrawing, and was floating away on a cloud, when suddenly he felt her clamp down on him from inside and her legs held him firm and stopped him. She was teasing him now, making him wait for it.

"You want more, Micky?"

"Yes. More."

"Ask me nicely."

"Gabby, can I fuck you some more, please?"

"How about if you touch my breasts first and then I'll decide?"

"Okay, Gabby, I can do that. I didn't want to disturb your slumber."

"Well now that you have, you may as well do it up right."

He reached for her breasts and kneaded and pulled at them, pinching her nipples and making her moan and twitch. She released her legs and allowed him to carry on with what he was doing before.

"Go ahead and fuck me now, Micky. Give it to me good."

Micky reached between her legs and started to stroke her and held off on the tempo of his own pleasure until he knew she was coming. Finally he let himself come with her and they both emitted their sounds of satisfaction simultaneously. The world seemed to be whirling and spinning and turning upside down, like they were going over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Then all was silent save for their panting, heaving breaths. They lay there for many minutes, contemplating what had just occurred and trying to regulate their rocketing heart rates. Micky took hold of Gabby's hands and clasped them in his and they stayed tangled up in each other, holding hands.

Finally, he slid out of her and he scooted up to lie behind her again and wrap her in his arms. She sighed with content and observed "Not a bad way to wake up, but I wouldn't make a habit of it if I wanted to stay sane and accomplish anything that day."

Micky laughed and said, "Well fortunately, the only thing you have on your agenda today is hanging out at the beach with me. If you're lucky, I'll take you to the Nooky Nook. We've only been there once together the day I found out my cousin died and it wasn't a pleasant experience. I've been dying to get you alone there. I have plans for you, my dear."

"Sounds good. Glad I finally got sensible and realistic and started keeping a few things over here, like a bathing suit and some clean underwear. And a toothbrush. Do you reckon that means we're living together?"

"Nope. Definitely nope," Micky shook his head and answered unequivocally. "First of all, we're not straying into that territory again and causing a big controversy, and second of all, look at us, we're still like two teenagers fighting for a few scraps of privacy! We won't be living together until we're living together. Like as in, we both have a key to the same residence and sleep in one bed every night and pee in the same toilet that we argued over who had to buy the toilet paper for, and keep our food in the same fridge. Am I right?"

"Yeah, you're right. I like that. We've come a long way to understanding each other, Micky. I'm not scared anymore."

He flipped her over to face him and searched her eyes. "Really, you mean that?"

"Yes, I mean it. You've been respectful and taken my concerns really seriously and I know that you've heard me and you've got a realistic view of what we have and where we're headed and how long and what type of commitment it's going to take to get there. I trust you."

He clasped her to his body tightly and said "Gabby, I'm so glad to hear that. That feels like a big accomplishment for both of us. I'm really proud of you, but I'm also proud of me and I'm proud of us."

"Me too, Micky." They kissed each other and she fluttered her eyes closed again.

"I'll let you sleep for a bit longer. I'll go out and get your bagel and lox and I'll wake you and we'll have breakfast and watch cartoons. Okay?"

"Okay. That sounds lovely. You're so good to me."

"Yes. I know."

She laughed and said "And you're so modest, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	56. Chapter 56

Gabby sat on the shore, sunning herself in a new swimsuit she bought to leave at the Pad. She loved having an excuse to shop, and she also had to admit it was a bit thrilling when Micky suggested she leave a few of her belongings at his place so that she could come and go comfortably. This was preferable to doing the walk of shame in the morning and having to climb back into her evening wear, and it allowed her to take advantage of the Pad's beachfront amenities. It didn't feel like a dangerous amount of commitment and it was a baby step she felt ready to make. She remembered back to this morning when she modeled her swimsuit for Micky for the first time and grinned.

Her new swimsuit was very _au courant_ and fashionable. It was a combination of white bikini bottoms and a billowy halter tank top with an empire waist with dainty ruffles at the neckline and the hem. 

When Micky saw her wearing it for the first time that morning, the first thing he did was lift up the top and check out was underneath. Spotting the bikini bottoms and a lack of coverage for her tummy, he slid his hands across her belly and started to plant small kisses across the smooth expanse of skin. She swatted him away, giggling, "Micky, are you going to let me out of the house or just keep me inside as your sex slave?"

Micky's expression clouded with consternation and pain. "You don't really think that, do you, Gabby? I'm not like Nick, am I?"

Gabby instantly regretted her remark. She took his face in both her hands and said "Shhh, Micky. I'm sorry. Let's get this clear. You are _nothing_ like Nick. I know that. I'm very clear on that. So you need to be clear on that, too. We need to be able to joke and be sarcastic and say silly things to each other and leave him far in the past, where he belongs. Okay? So don't ever think I'm accusing you of anything or making any comparison between you two. If I ever do that, I'll be real specific and I'll have a pissed off look on my face, and I definitely won't be giggling. Okay?"

Micky smiled and said "Okay. Now where were we?" and he reached for her bathing suit again, this time checking out the neckline and peeking down the top to check out her cleavage. He saw that her breasts were crammed into a small space that lifted them up and he ran his hand over their swelling form again and again. "Mmmm, that's gorgeous. I approve of this new swimsuit. I'm going to enjoy watching you wear it, and I'm really going to enjoy taking it off of you."

"I'm glad you like it. Now can we get started with the enjoying wearing it part?" She winked at him and flounced out the patio door. Micky whistled as he admired her bum which was flashing from beneath the top as she walked along. She gave him another glance over her shoulder and another wink.

Now Gabby in turn was enjoying watching Micky surf the waves. He was in his own little slice of heaven, his zone of peace, where life's troubles and strife couldn't touch him. The only challenges were between him and navigating the tubes, and the most frustration he faced was how long he'd have to wait until the next wave came in. He was calm and happy, challenged, focused and free. This was Micky at his best. Not to mention Micky at his hottest. His muscles were taut and straining to grip the board while maintaining his balance, his skin kissed by the sun and glistening with tiny starbursts as the light hit the water droplets that clung to the surface. He was so masculine in his build and yet graceful in his movements. When he was surfing, he seemed to revert to a younger, more playful and carefree version of himself, which made Gabby feel almost indecent with the thoughts she was having as she ogled him. She had to remind herself that he was actually older than she was and had been living on his own for way longer than she had; he was _all_ man, not nearly jailbait. She bit her lip and smiled and squirmed on her towel as she had these lascivious thoughts.

Today's book for Gabby was a doorstopper of a collection of short stories – _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ – a continuation from her favorite literature class in college. She was amused at the contrast between where her mind was supposed to be, in the fog-choked streets of Victorian England, and where her mind could not leave, the sunny strip of sand on Malibu beach where she was perched. She had finally given up trying to read and just gazed at Micky, drinking him in with frank appreciation.

Finally, he came bounding in to shore with his board tucked under his arm, shaking himself off like a wet sheepdog. He threw himself down on the blanket she had laid out for them and asked "Where are you today, Gabby? In London?"

She smiled sheepishly and admitted "Actually, I was right here, ogling you. I couldn't help it. You were captivating me."

Micky's eyes lit up and he looked immensely gratified. How far a distance they had come, from the days when he couldn't get Gabby to give him the time of day, to now when she was admitting she found him distractingly irresistible. He gave his goofy grin and said "Wow, I think you just made my century."

Gabby reached out and stroked Micky's cheek lovingly. "How lucky am I to be sitting here on the beach getting a private free show from chick magnet Micky Dolenz?"

"Yeah, well, my stud days are over. You've domesticated me. I'm only for you now. Private shows only. Speaking of which, how about if I finally keep my word and deliver on that Palm Springs wager?"

Gabby's eyebrows rose above her sunglasses and her mouth dropped open. "I won't ever say no to that, but it's a beautiful day. Don't you want to stay out here and enjoy it while you can?"

Micky gave her an enigmatic look and said "Oh, we can still enjoy it. Come with me, little girl." He offered her his hand and pulled her up to her feet. They gathered their stuff and walked down the beach. Clarity dawned when Gabby realized where he was guiding her. They approached the Nooky Nook, which was quite deserted, as it always was, since it was on a part of the beach that was covered with mostly pebbles and didn't have a very good view. Micky spread the blanket over the pebbles and eased Gabby down on it. She tossed him her beach bag and he laid it behind his head like a pillow and got nice and relaxed.

Once he had her full attention, he decided not to give her what she wanted right away. He could tell she was beyond keyed up. She had taken off her sunglasses so she wouldn't miss a thing, and her eyes were bugged out of her head. Her tongue was between her teeth and she was biting it and smiling ever just so. He decided to tease her.

"So remind me, Gabriella, what was that wager about? What are we here for?"

"Micky, I don't have to remind you what we're here for. You know very well what you're honor bound to do. Now get going."

"Mmmm, wrong answer. Maybe I'll just lay back and work on my tan." He rolled on his back and flopped down like a dead fish.

"Micky!" she cried impatiently.

"Tell me, Gabriella. What do you want me to do?"

"The wager was that you had to jack off."

"Nah, nah, that's pretty crude language for a classy lady like you to be using with a timid young lad like me. I think you ought to be a little more subtle, maybe sweet talk me a bit."

She crawled over to him on her belly, ran her fingers through his hair, and whispered "Micky, my young lover, I want you to touch yourself all over and make love to yourself. I want to see you squirm and wriggle and twitch and fidget and moan and shout and come all over yourself. How's that?"

"Now see, that's really good! You're really good at dirty talk, Gabby. How'd you get so good at that?"

"I used to steal my dad's girlie magazines and read the stories at the front of them."

"Really?" Micky looked stunned.

"Yeah, of course. They don't make magazines like that for women. Maybe someday they will. I sense another _The Shrew_ column coming on. Now stop trying to change the subject and make with the free show."

Micky started to strip off his bathing suit and she said "No. Don't just go right for the gold, Micky! Do it slowly. Take your time. We've got plenty of time."

So Micky changed his approach. He remembered back to how Gabby touched herself all over the night he had asked her to do something similar. He touched himself in places he had never bothered to investigate, like the crook of his arms, and the insides of his thighs, remembering how good it felt when Gabby kissed him there. Then he played with his own nipples, a first for him, and that really started to turn him on and made his head float. His cock started to get rock hard and he felt it rising to the edge of his bathing suit waistband, so he lowered the fabric and let Gabby have a peek and did an agonizingly slow strip tease for her.

Finally he was naked and he touched himself in the same type of mystifying order of tweaks and caresses he had when they were in the Jacuzzi in Palm Springs that Gabby wished she knew the combination to so that she could repeat them with her own hands and give him the kind of pleasure she knew he was giving himself. His hands flitted from his shaft, to the more sensitive head of his penis, then down to his balls, to even the smooth skin behind his balls, which she had never paid any attention to (she made a mental note to do so in future). His rhythm went from random to methodical to a steady thrum and then a blur until suddenly he was clutching himself and writhing and moaning and shouting and spurting all over himself.

Gabby awoke from the trance she had been in, crawled towards Micky and bent over him. She allowed her tongue to snake out of her mouth and lick the head of his penis and he twitched violently as he was incredibly sensitive. She licked up the come off his penis and his belly, then moved up to his mouth and deposited it in there with her tongue. At first Micky jerked his head back in surprise, then he relaxed and let the salty, bitter taste wash over him and let their tongues mingle and dance together. Gabby pulled her head back and gave him a mischievous look. He returned her smile and responded "Far out. That was pretty interesting. Not too bad. You chicks are pretty brave to swallow that stuff as it comes squirting out at you. I'm glad to know what that tastes like. Though the way you gave it to me is the only way I'd want to experience it." She grinned and chuckled.

She gave his penis a fond squeeze and then handed him his bathing suit. He got dressed again and asked her "Are we even Steven now with our debts on that backgammon game?"

"Well, not exactly," Gabby mused. "I mean, you got me to masturbate for you before I got you to do it for me, so I think you're still a little bit in my debt."

"So how can I balance the books, my Gabriella?"

"Well, I don't really know, but I'm sure I'll think of something. In the meantime, since we're here, do you want to check out my new swimsuit?"

Micky said "No. I want to check it out at home so that I can give it a thorough examination and not worry about getting caught by someone passing by. Also, it's going to take me a long time to examine it and by the time I get through with you, you'd have a really bad sunburn if we stayed here. So we'll put that on hold for now."

"Okay, fair enough. Kiss me, then?"

"That I can do." He leaned forward and kissed her, snaking his hand underneath her bathing suit top and running his hand over her belly. "Your body is a feast, Gabby. I can never get enough of it."

"That makes me feel wonderful, my Micky. Thank you for worshipping me and telling me that. I'll tell you a little secret. I was out there on my towel, watching you surf, ogling you, and I couldn't even disappear into my book, not one little bit. I was stuck in the present, watching your hot body surf the waves, and also enjoying seeing you look so content and happy. I'm not sure which made me happier, but I know what made me hornier," she giggled.

Micky took her hand and kissed it. "You make me both – happy and horny."

Gabby giggled, "How very poetic. Sounds like the makings of some song lyrics."

"Not if we want to get them played on the radio," he laughed.

They stood up and walked hand in hand back to the Pad, Gabby hoped in pursuit of Micky's closer inspection of her swimsuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	57. Chapter 57

Right after Micky got through inspecting Gabby's new swimsuit and she left to go home and change for the night's gig, Davy came home. He sort of staggered as he walked and looked like something the cat dragged in. Micky was concerned about his well-being and cross-examined him, and Davy confided that he had taken part in an orgy, his first ever. Surprisingly, he was not glowing, nor full of braggadocio. He was disgusted with himself and freaked out. As he sat on his bed, he held his head in his hand and rocked back and forth, scolding himself and wishing he could turn back the clock.

"Micky, man, it was wild, but it was just too out there. I mean, it was like nobody there was a human being. It was just bodies everywhere and everyone was interchangeable. Nobody was saying anything and everyone was bombed out of their mind and walking around like zombies. I felt like I was in a horror movie. I expected one of these chicks to have fangs and suck my blood. They wanted to feed on me. I thought that would be a dream come true, but it really was a nightmare. It made me sick. What do you think this means?"

Micky laid his hand on Davy's shoulder and said "I think it means you're more of a human being than you thought you were, and you've gotten pink and healthy again. I went through the same thing after I met Gabby. It felt like every rule of physics I had been operating by no longer was operative. Like gravity shifted and I suddenly didn't have my feet on the ground anymore. She just knocked my legs out from under me. I had to re-learn the rules of being a decent guy. But I had no regrets about it and I was ready to make the change because I knew it was the only way for me to get my heart's desire and live the rest of my life like a real person. I had been kind of a zombie myself living in a fantasy land that I suddenly realized was actually pretty gross. I kind of woke up out of trance and realized real life was a lot more appealing. Maybe that's how you feel, too, now that you've had a taste of it and broken away from the groupie scene – your system just revolted."

Davy's hands were shaking and he had a moist dew on his brow. "Yeah, I think maybe you're right, mate. Thanks for telling me about what you went through. I know you'll probably laugh, but at this point, I'd give me left nut for what you and Gabby have. Hot sex, yeah, but love, something real, something that will be there the next morning and the day after that."

"I don't think that's funny, Davy, I think it's where you were bound to end up if you let yourself get there. I'm really glad you made it. You know that song you sing, _I Wanna Be Free_ , you sing all about how you don't want commitment and all, but there are other ways to be free. Sometimes knowing you have someone there by your side to catch you when you fall is the most freeing feeling in the world. And yeah, steady, hot sex on demand, that's always a bonus, too. No wondering who it's going to be with or how long it will be available or where the next fix is coming from – definitely a plus. And to be honest, the sex is way better. Waaaaayyyyy better." Micky winked at him, and they laughed and gave each other a back-slapping guy hug.

Saturday's gig had an interesting dynamic. The groupies, having gotten a taste of the guys' favors the night before, were hungry for more. But the guys had reverted back to their hands-off, boyfriend mode and wanted nothing to do with them. This caused some disgruntlement amongst the regulars, so a compromise was struck and the guys decided to be a bit more accommodating with autographs and chit chat, again with the exception of Micky, who stayed glued to his drum kit seat. Wendy, Gabby and Dawn made their presence known to make sure the groupies knew that the old regime was back in place and they had better keep it clean. The groupies seemed to get the message and took things with fairly good grace. Gabby was relieved to see that there apparently were none of the more aggressive Simpsons girls in attendance. She hadn't seen them in a couple of weeks and hoped they had finally gotten the message and vamoosed permanently.

Another thing they noticed was that the size and composition of the crowd had changed. There were a few more older, single guys hanging around, and Mike's keen business nose and Wendy's familiarity with the Wallichs Music City crowd quickly picked up on the fact that Clyde had spread the word about the Monkees to some of his associates who had decided to come by and check out their act. The rest of the newcomers were just more patrons in general of all types, so that the club was full to capacity. In fact, when Robert arrived, he was a bit flustered and disclosed that he had had to offer to tip the doorman to let him in because there was now a line out the door waiting to get in to hear the Monkees. Fortunately, the doorman recognized Robert as a regular and friend of the band and let him pass without accepting the tip. Apparently word of mouth had generated the additional patronage. The guys were thrilled at their upturn in fortunes.

The gig went well, with the new song, _Last Train to Clarksville_ , once again causing a big stir even though Mike didn't give it a special intro or highlight it in any way. The song just stood on its own. This made the guys feel as though they were onto something, and they also hoped it would impress whoever those guys were whom Clyde sent to watch their show.

After the show, several men approached the guys and handed them business cards and chatted with them about their act. As they had surmised, they were all in the music business and in one way or another associated with Clyde. Wendy took a proactive role in the conversation and this time, it was with Mike's blessing. She and he had had a conversation after his "hydrotherapy" treatment the night before about her role going forward in shepherding the band through the process of making the demo and networking with Clyde. Mike officially conceded that Wendy's help was not only welcome but necessary. They actually made a very effective team, with Mike's business savvy and Wendy's gregarious, personable, winning patter. They were encouraged to get in touch with their new contacts after they had completed their demo tape, which they promised to do.

This time, everyone felt that a group meeting/celebration was in order and they all went out to Ed's. They arranged themselves into two booths as usual, this time with Gabby, Micky, Lynda and Robert and Davy in one booth, and the others in another. Just as they finished placing their order, Gabby spotted a familiar face coming through the door with a group of friends and she signaled the girl with a friendly wave. She said a word to her friends and detoured towards Gabby's table.

Gabby stood up and hugged the girl and cried "Debbie, it's great to see you, I'm glad you don't live in that dingy student government office and get to go out once in a while!" Debbie laughed and said "Yeah, I'm allowed to have a social life. It's not like being a nun." Gabby turned to the group in the two booths and said "Hey, everybody, this is my friend and partner in social justice, Debbie Majors. She's the Vice President of Student Affairs at UCLA and I'm giving her a hand with organizing an anti-war protest for next month when the President comes to town. She's going to be one of tomorrow's great leaders." Debbie blushed a bit and waved hello to everyone.

Gabby invited her to sit down in her booth and she slid in next to Davy. Gabby observed "Damn, girl, you clean up real nice. Last time I saw you, you had your working fatigues on. Have you been out to a club or something?"

Debbie had on a slim mini-dress and knee-high patent leather boots. The dress had a keyhole opening in the front with a crisscross of strips of fabric that highlighted her cleavage in a tasteful but tantalizing showcase. She had her blonde hair up in a high ponytail and wore minimal makeup but just enough to highlight her very pretty features. She laughed and said "Actually, I think I've been where you've been tonight. I was at Cornwall's, catching these guys' act. I didn't know you knew the Monkees." She looked shyly around the table and tried hard not to look like a voyeur or a groupie.

Davy, who had been checking Debbie out since she had walked over to greet Gabby, now stirred and asked her "'ow did you like the show? Did you dig the music?"

She smiled and said "Yeah, I danced my feet to bloody stumps! You guys are very talented."

By now, in his old mode of operating, Davy would already have introduced himself and commandeered this woman, but he decided to play it a different way for once and just listen to what she had to say, so he kept mum about himself and asked her some more questions. First he asked her what songs she liked best, then about her taste in music in general, then asked her about her schooling at UCLA ("What year are you in school? What's your major? Do you know what you want to do when you graduate?"), and then wanted to know where she grew up and whether she'd be staying in California after she graduated. Only after they had been talking for probably twenty minutes did he finally introduce himself and shake her hand politely.

Everyone else in the booth made small talk amongst themselves as this remarkable conversation was happening, and they made sure to butt out and let it happen, but they were all well aware that what they were witnessing was truly groundbreaking, unprecedented new territory for Davy, and they were proud of him. Gabby did fret a bit for her friend Debbie and hoped she wouldn't become a casualty of Davy's new science experiment, but she figured Debbie was her own person and could handle herself just fine. Eventually, Debbie rose from her seat and said "I ought to get back to my friends. It was great meeting you and chatting with you, Davy. Maybe I'll see you around." Davy rose and walked her back to her friends. They stopped at her table, he said something to her, she nodded and then he waved and returned to the booth.

Gabby couldn't resist asking him "Davy, what did you say to Debbie?"

He smiled and said "I asked her if it would be okay if you brought me by the student government office one day to see what that scene is all about."

Gabby was impressed. "You didn't even ask her for her phone number?"

"Nope," Davy said succinctly, proud of his reserve and willingness to try a new, more respectable approach. "So will you help me start off on the right foot for once and take me over there the next time you have a meeting? Micky and I said we wanted to get involved with your cause, so I wouldn't exactly be out of place."

"Sure, Davy, but only if you're serious. It's not a swinger's party, these meetings. It's for people committed to an important cause. I know you've been through the draft and that gives you a seat at the table, but just keep that in mind and don't insult anyone in that room or embarrass me or yourself. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I dig."

"Alright, our next meeting is on Tuesday. I'll give you the details later and you can meet me there. You can bring Micky if he wants to come. He might add to your respectability quotient and give you more cover." She winked at him. He grinned back at her.

The group discussed the scheduling options for recording sessions. Time was short and they knew that since they had very little familiarity with the process, they were going to need to build in as much leeway as possible. The Festival was less than two weeks away. Wendy was given a round of applause as Mike announced that she was to be officially acknowledged as the recording session leader. He beamed at her with pride, affection, respect and gratitude. They all were aware of what a remarkable transformation of personality Wendy had wrought on the big guy, and they were amused, impressed and also gratified.

Everyone agreed that the music would take priority and that the girls would back off and support the guys as much as possible by staying out of their way, though Micky and Peter fought for and won the right to regular sex as a key to their sanity and peace of mind, which also caused a great deal of amusement, particularly on Davy's part. Mike didn't argue with the proposition, knowing that he'd be getting it regularly from Wendy if she was going to be around all the time in the recording studio, and he was forced to concede that fair was fair. Davy negotiated the right to go see Debbie at UCLA on Tuesday in lieu of the sex the other guys had demanded, since he wouldn't be getting any anytime soon. Eventually everyone was happy with their arrangements and it was all systems go.

Everyone raised their glasses of soda and milkshakes and proposed a toast to the new demo: "To _Last Train To Clarksville_!"

* * *

Recording sessions had been grueling and even acrimonious initially. It was more or less the blind leading the blind, except for the saving grace that Clyde, true to his word, had given Wendy and the band an orientation session and shown them how to use the equipment. He also loaned them a technician whose job it was to babysit the equipment, but not give any input on how to produce the track. Initially, Mike tried to dominate the proceedings as he always did, but Wendy had the welfare and sanity of the technician in mind and could see very quickly that Mike's abrasive, dominant personality was in danger of putting them out of business very quickly if he didn't allow her to be the intermediary with him. So Mike told Wendy what he wanted and then she translated it to the tech by treating him respectfully and like a human being.

After ironing out that lines of communication, things began to go more smoothly. Then it was just a matter of coalescing as a whole and trying to get through a single take without fluffing their instrumentals and figuring out what sort of sound made the most sense after they heard what it sounded like on tape, as opposed to live.

As promised, on Tuesday, Mike gave the guys a couple of hours off to attend the meeting at UCLA with Gabby. Peter and Micky decided to go along with Davy to attend the meeting, since they also were down for the cause. Micky also wanted to keep an eye on Davy to make sure he didn't slip back into lounge lizard territory, and he was curious to see Gabby in activist mode. They found the student government offices at the student union and greeted Gabby and Debbie with smiles and hugs. After the meeting, Debbie invited the guys and Gabby to hang out at the pub that most of the students frequented. Gabby let the guys decide whether they had time.

"Do you guys have a recording session tonight, or are you off now?"

Davy spoke "Nah, Mike's got us back in the studio again tonight. Can we have a raincheck, luv? We're in the middle of recording a demo, but I'd like to spend more time with you and hear about you."

Debbie smiled and said "Sure, another time. Are you going to be at our next meeting? That's mandatory if you want to be part of the cause."

Davy responded "I'll insist on it, if I have to wrap Michael up with electrical tape and tie him to a microphone stand. Thanks for letting us join the group."

Davy, Peter and Micky said their farewells to Debbie and the rest of the students, and Micky gave Gabby a reluctant kiss goodbye. "See you tonight, babe?" She nodded and said "My place. Let's let Wendy and Mike have the Pad tonight if they want it. Anyhow, this way you'll be closer to the recording studio tomorrow."

As they waved goodbye to the guys, Debbie turned to Gabby and commanded "Okay, Gabby, you and me, at the pub, now." Gabby knew what was coming and just said, "Yeah, okay, cool."

They got settled in with a couple of mugs of ale and Debbie launched in with what she wanted to know. Namely, she wanted the lowdown on Davy. What was his deal, his intentions towards her, his reputation, his personality, his trustworthy factor, etc.?

Gabby took a large swig of beer and said "Well, Debbie, it's like B.C. and A.D. Do you want the answer of what he was like a couple of months ago or now? Because he's gone through some heavy stuff lately, and he's changed a lot."

"What do you mean?" Debbie asked with a mixture of suspicion and bewilderment on her face.

Gabby recounted for her Davy's introduction to Lynda, a really steady, nice girl who got his feet planted on the ground, then the draft notice arriving shortly thereafter, his battle to flunk his physical and the psychological and physical nightmare he endured, plus the emotional boot camp Lynda subjected him to throughout the process and afterwards. She described how he and Lynda had broken up but stayed friends and how graciously Davy had ceded his place to Robert, and about how he had taken her advice and become closer friends with Micky and taken him as a role model and confidant. She didn't spill any details but merely alluded to how he had described to Micky how his recent forced return to the groupie pit had shaken him gravely, how viscerally it had repelled him, and how he now knew that he was looking for a meaningful relationship. She also tipped Debbie off that Davy had treated her with extreme respect and deference and that she should be very flattered at his change in _modus operandi_.

"I can't guarantee you, Debbie, that Davy's not going to hurt your heart or disappoint you, but I will say that I admire the work he's done on himself and will give him credit for the changes he's made. I'll also cut him some slack for immaturity. He's probably only about the same age as you, and he's been on his own in the world since he was fourteen. He's lived a different kind of life than you have, and it's shaped him in a certain way. He's lacked guidance and discipline, but he's learning and open to change and he is changing. So if you decide to let him in, keep that in mind and try to nurture that.

"When I met Micky, he was pretty much operating the same way as Davy and I turned him down flat. He was chasing after a new groupie every night and was shallow and hedonistic. After he met me, he dropped the whole thing and decided that what he wanted was love and something meaningful and he never looked back. He had a lot to learn and our road to true love wasn't smooth, but it's been worth it. We both had troubled pasts we had to deal with, and we've helped each other grow up and become the people we want to be. That's what love and relationships are about. You don't go into it perfect, and you don't find the perfect guy. It's not realistic. You build something together. But I don't want to influence you. You do what seems right for you."

"Thanks for the real talk, Gabby. I appreciate it. I'll let it ride and see what happens. I'll give him a chance and see whether he's sincere. There's no doubt he's walked the path with the draft that so many people in our group haven't, so he knows things we don't, and I admire him for that. I'm sure he's at least sincere on that score. I doubt he's in this cause to pick up chicks. If that's all he cared about, he'd have just asked for my phone number and not bothered coming to the meeting."

"Yeah, that's what I said! I was pretty floored when he told me he didn't ask you for your number and asked to come to the meeting instead. You've got a good head on your shoulders, Debbie. Just keep your eyes open and don't get all starry-eyed. Too many chicks make that mistake with musicians. They're people first and foremost. And their egos are both massive and fragile. So take it real slow and cautiously. I think that's where Davy's head is at anyway, so you shouldn't have too much trouble keeping things at a pace you're comfortable with. And if he misbehaves, you tell me and I'll kick his ass." She winked at Debbie and clinked their glasses together. Debbie laughed and said "Yeah, I'll do that."

* * *

Getting a master instrumental track took nearly the whole first week and time was running out for Micky to lay down his vocal track. They decided to try to get the whole thing recorded on Monday, which would give Micky a day to recover his voice after back-to-back gigs the nights before. Gabby asked Micky what would help him relax the most to get him in top form for Monday's recording session and Micky gave her his wickedest gleam. She rolled her eyes and said "Yeah, Micky, but I mean, really, you want to do that all day and all night?" How about a trip to the zoo or something?" Being of a childlike nature and easily distracted, Micky perked up and said "Hey, yeah, that sounds great! The zoo! But then, you know what I want afterwards. And I want it with total privacy. So I want to check in to some cheapo motel and have you all to myself and get as loud and shouty as I want. Deal?"

So Gabby and Micky spent the day on Sunday at the Los Angeles Zoo. They were especially thrilled to see a couple of polar bear cubs who had just arrived at the zoo. Their names were Bruno and Sweetheart.

They opted to take a tour in a little tram so they could see as many animals as possible.

Then they roamed around the grounds, marveling at the wildlife making their homes right in the heart of the city. Gabby watched Micky out of the corner of her eye and reflected for perhaps the hundredth time or so how boyish he looked, then shivered at the prospect of contrasting how later that night he'd be showing her how very much he was all man.

They stopped for dinner at a Mexican dive and chowed down on their favorite type of food. Their last stop of the day was to rent a room for the night at the classiest of dive hotel chains, The Vagabond, in nearby Glendale. Micky deemed it classy for two reasons. First, there was an ice bucket and ice machine (never mind that they had no need for either), and second, there was a king sized bed in the room, a true luxury for a guy who slept in a single bed every night of his life, except for when he slept in Gabby's double bed.

Gabby was happy with the room because it had both a bathtub and a shower. She associated baths with her and Micky settling down at the end of the day and with the exception of that one hideous lukewarm bath in Palm Springs in which they had their epic fight, she had lovely memories of their times together soaking in the tub. For now, though, she suggested a shower to wash away the sweat and animal stench from a day of zoo-gazing. Micky was almost incapable of taking a nonsexual shower with her, so she knew that this was the prelude to their evening's activities. She got a jump on him at least by washing his hair and he washed hers, thus accomplishing one necessary task before he got distracted.

Micky took up the bar of soap and began to paint her body with it as if he were whitewashing a fence, giving full coverage to every inch. The method to his madness became clear when he placed the soap on the soap tray and then rubbed his body all over hers, saying "I thought I could use your body as my wash cloth. Isn't that clever?"

"Micky, your mind is always coming up with creative, interesting new ideas. You are a bubbling volcano of original, energetic engineering. Someday you're going to invent something or revolutionize a whole industry. Maybe it will be music, or maybe you're going to go back to science and discover some whole new theory that no one figured out yet." Gabby gazed at him with sincere appreciation.

"Thanks, Gabby. I almost buy that you're not blowing smoke up my ass," he grinned.

"I'm not, Micky, I'm not!"

He giggled and rubbed himself more vigorously against her and said "Well this is one idea that I think could save humanity. Hell, if they exported this over to Vietnam, it could stop the war in its tracks cold, don't you think?"

"Mhmmm," Gabby purred, starting to get swept away by the sensations Micky was causing her skin.

After more soaping and rubbing, he rinsed them off and guided her, now in a haze, out of the shower and onto the bathmat, where he dried her thoroughly as she listlessly raised her limbs to aid his efforts. He lifted her up and carried her to the bed and gently placed her on the mattress. She did a cat stretch and extended her toes and fingers to their full extent. Even her eyelashes felt extremely sensitive now. He continued to stimulate her skin with his fingernails, first her front and then her back, all over.

She was lying on her front and he said "Gabby, remember that day in Carmel you mentioned vanilla sex, face up or over easy, and I asked you what over easy was and you said you didn't know? I think I know what it is. Can I show you?"

She paused for a moment, then said "Micky, this doesn't involve my ass, does it?"

"Nooooo, of course not! No, definitely, no. I promised you we're not ever going there. And anyway, that does not interest me. I'm no anatomically challenged fool. I can't believe he did that to you. No. I will never do that to you. No. And just for the record, to clear up any questions you may have about that, I don't want that for myself either, but thanks for offering." She giggled and said "You're welcome."

"But it does mean me giving it to you from behind while you're lying down. I think if I slip it in you that way, it's going to touch that special place inside you that we found together and you're going to feel real good. Do you want to try it?"

"Yes, I do, your ideas are always good ones, or at least so far. I trust you, Micky. Take me vanilla, over easy. Though frankly, in my book that is really in the tutti frutti category. That's way out there and as usual, your brilliant mind has come up with a doozy. Am I ready for you?"

"No, definitely not. And I'm not either. Just wanted to get clearance from ground control. Come here, Gabriella. Let me prepare you for takeoff."

He swept her up in his arms and sealed their flight plan with a kiss. Several small, reassuring kisses. "You okay?" he asked. "Yes, my Micky. I want you to take me on a journey with you."

He continued to kiss her very tenderly, with gentle swipes of his tongue to hers. Then he whispered in her ear "I love you," and began to plant small kisses down her neck. Even though their sex was going to be freaky and adventurous, he wanted to make sure she knew that it was all about love and trust. It had to be that way, the more out there it got. There had to be a tether binding them together, and a safety net to catch them, and that would always be their love for each other. So his approach to her was surprisingly quiet and gentle.

He licked her neck, nibbled on her ear lobes, and steadied her nerves through a slow descent down to her breasts. He very tenderly worshiped them until she began to fidget and moan and request firmer contact. He smiled and obliged, increasing the pressure of his kisses and licks and nibbles and adding his hands to pinch and pull and twist. Her breathing sped up and now she became more demanding of his attention and he began to rub his own chest against hers, requesting her attention on his. She obliged, sitting up and loving on his nipples and giving them a thorough going over, while he continued to palm and manipulate hers.

Gabby was in a frenzy now and rubbed her chest against his once more and began to rut her coochie against his leg, letting him feel the moisture gather there. She was ready and anxious for what was coming next. He let his fingers stray to that area to survey the landscape and found that she was soaking wet and more than ready to receive him. She was by now frantic and whispered in his ear "I'm ready for you now, Micky."

He rolled her onto her stomach and parted her legs. She had her hands braced at her sides gripping the sheets, waiting with suspense to feel what was coming next. Micky raised her up a bit, aimed for her hole and entered her, then lowered her again and began to slowly slide in and out of her, just to get her used to the feeling of his girth and the friction. "How does that feel, Gabby? Are you okay, any discomfort?"

"I'm good, Micky. Oooh, I'm good."

"Okay, I'm going to lie down on you. You tell me if I'm too heavy," and laid his whole body down on her. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's good."

"Okay, here comes something else."

He reached around her front and put his hands between her legs and found her clitoris and began to rub her. "How does that feel, my Gabby?"

"Ahhhh, that's reaaaal good, Micky."

"Okay, here we go. Prepare for takeoff."

He put all the elements together and began to move everything at once. He slid himself in and out of her, pressed his weight down on her to create friction for himself, and he slid his hand over her love button repeatedly as she clamped her legs open and shut to create extra pressure and friction for herself and him. It was a truly wild and stimulating sensation for both of them, the likes of which they had never experienced, and they both had orgasms within seconds of each other. They shouted and heaved and panted together with stunned and gleeful celebration. It was an amazing experience that neither could have anticipated and both found incredibly gratifying.

"Hohhhhhh, Micky, that was magnificent," Gabby exhaled. "Please keep moving your fingers. I'm still tingly."

"You bet, babe. I can still feel you vibrating in there."

"You can? Wow, that's far out. How do you feel?"

"Like I'm floating in that Jacuzzi with you, only I'm in your glory hole. It's hot and wet and it's buzzing and I'm all tingly."

Gabby started to giggle and every time she did Micky moaned and cried "Ooooohhhh" because it clenched down on his prick and made him feel sensations, which just made her giggle more.

He kissed her behind her ear and she said "Thank you, Micky, for bringing the tutti frutti to my life. You've given me my life back and made me whole again. I'm happy and healthy and myself and even better than myself because I'm part of you and me as us."

"I feel the same way, Gabby. We make something extra special when we're together. In ancient times they called it alchemy. Nowadays, scientists call that a bunch of bullshit and say it isn't a real branch of science, but I believe in metaphysics and spirituality and if that's where our specialness comes from, then that's fine with me, too. I don't need a theorem to tell me it's real. I know it's there. I've seen it and I've lived with it and without it. I never want to be without you again." He kissed her behind the ear once more, withdrew from her and brought her into his arms for a loving embrace. She nestled herself into him and kissed every inch of his skin that was within her lips' reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	58. Chapter 58

With only a minimum of screaming and Wendy having to tell Mike he was a pompous ass and remind him that she was in charge of the recording sessions, the demo finally was completed and readied for the Festival. Everyone had one more day's grace to pack and get their stuff together before they had to hit the road. They were driving up early Friday morning on the first day of the Festival, and had decided to spring for two hotel rooms with two double beds each. Peter and Dawn had floated the suggestion that they all just camp out at the fairgrounds, like many festival-goers were planning on doing, but Mike and Wendy revolted at the idea, saying it would ruin the band's image as professionals, while Davy objected on the grounds of, well, the ground, saying he wasn't "gonna be sleeping rough like a bloody dosser on the Embankment." Gabby looked mystified and wished she had Lynda there to translate. Lynda had not felt it appropriate to join them on their trip since she and Robert as a pair weren't central to the group's mission, their presence would also make the logistics of sleeping arrangements more complicated and expensive, and she sure as hell wasn't going to go on her own without Robert and sleep in a bed with Davy, so they opted to stay home.

Gabby was surprised that Davy hadn't invited Debbie. She asked him about his reason for holding back and his response was frank and poignant.

"I barely know her. Let's let her have a good college experience, Gabby, like you didn't get to have."

She felt breathless with shock, the implication being that he feared he might be capable of hurting and traumatizing Debbie on the same scale as Nick had done to Gabby. She felt he was being way too harsh on himself and needed to set him straight on that score.

"Davy, hold up. I think you're being way too hard on yourself. First of all, you're not a sociopath like Nick was. Second of all, I think you're doing the same thing to yourself that Micky did when we first started dating. You're beating yourself up for your past mistakes to the point of traumatizing yourself into seriously low self-esteem. Just think of Debbie as a chance at a do-over. That's how Micky and I got ourselves going. We turned our backs on the past and looked forward with a clean slate. I mean, it was hard to do and we had some false starts, but we just kept at it. You're not a monster, you're someone with a past he's not proud of, and someone who wants to find a way to learn how to truly love and be loved. That's all. Debbie knows that, because I explained it to her."

Davy looked shocked and a bit put out. "Why did you tell her all that stuff?"

"Because she asked me. She wanted to know what kind of guy you were. Whether you were a typical rock 'n roller, love 'em and leave 'em guy. I didn't tell her details about your past. She already figured that part out for herself. I just talked about your background coming from England as a young boy, and how you grew up on your own here taking care of yourself, what you've been through lately, and what you've accomplished so far in reforming your ways. I also told her about how Micky made a similar transformation, and that she ought to give you a chance if she felt able to."

Now a look of relief and gratitude settled onto Davy's face and a smile appeared. "Ta, Gabby. You're a good friend. I'll walk away from her before I hurt her. I already decided that. Knowing what I do now about what happened to you in college, I just couldn't let meself hurt her. She's too vulnerable. It never occurred to me when I bedded all those groupies that maybe they were a Gabby I was hurting."

"Well, Davy, from what I've seen of those groupies, they probably weren't. They seem to go into those situations with their eyes wide open for the most part, though I'm sure at least a certain percentage think you're going to fall in love with them and that you're playing for keeps. But any girl who's willing to give it away on the first date is seriously mistaken about how love works and is setting herself up for hurt. Not that that absolves you, but it makes the girl somewhat complicit in her own fate. I'm just glad you're going to try to do things in the right order for once. Micky calls it courtship. I really like that term and that concept. It's like setting the table for dinner with some nice plates, silverware and glasses and lighting a candle instead of just eating with your bare hands, you know? It's more civilized and it's a better way of making a memorable, more satisfying meal. You've really got very good table manners." She winked at Davy.

He laughed and said "Yeah, far better than the rest of these guys. They eat like their mothers raised them in a barn. They were pretty rough when I met them. I had to teach 'em all some manners. You should thank me."

"Thank you. Oh, by the way, Davy. One more thing. I told Debbie that if you do anything out of line she should tell me so that I can kick your ass. So just keep that in mind." She winked at him again, tweaked his nose and walked away.

* * *

The Monkeemobile and the girls' car pulled into the parking lot at The Village Inn and they settled into the two rooms they had secured in advance, requesting two double beds in each. Gabby and Micky felt like it was old home week, being back at the scene of their love taking true flight and its consummation, so they were in a particularly good mood, and they were happy to be sharing that special place with their dearest friends. The decision to stay in Carmel also had its practical advantages, since it was only about a ten minute drive from the Monterey County Fairgrounds, where the Festival was being held, and the town was anticipating serious overcrowding. Even though the stadium itself held a capacity of less than 10,000, the fairgrounds itself accommodated tens of thousands more, and those not lucky enough to secure tickets to the shows were still allowed to enter the perimeter of the premises and camp and hang out. The Monkees had much-coveted tickets for all three days' performances, as well as backstage guest passes.

There was a huge debate about who was going to sleep in which room. Peter and Dawn had by now gained a reputation for having sex anytime, anywhere, and Wendy had now also gained a similar reputation with her hijinks in the backseat of the Monkeemobile on the way to the aerial tram in Palm Springs. Davy wanted to avoid being stuck with a couple getting it on, and he thought his best shot at that was to bunk with Micky and Gabby. But Wendy felt her reputation was unearned as she argued that her backseat fuckery had been a one-off mission of mercy, until Dawn reminded her that she had been caught fucking Mike in the pool at their apartment complex. Then in self-defense, Wendy spilled the beans on Micky and Gabby's lovemaking in the pool at Palm Springs and all hell broke loose as Gabby went into she-bear mode, scolding Wendy for breaking girl code and discussing private matters that should have remained under seal, while Micky looked distinctly uncomfortable yet simultaneously a bit smug. Finally, Davy stepped in and said that Micky was helping to keep him on the straight and narrow with chicks and would help make sure he didn't bring anyone unsavory with him back to the room and that settled that. Davy would take the other bed in Micky and Gabby's room, and he'd take his chances and hope that Micky could keep it in his pants for the weekend. He also made a mental note to beg Gabby to have a quiet word with Micky to that effect.

Everyone changed into what they hoped were hip and appropriate clothes. Mike stuck with his usual blue jeans and plaid shirt, though he added a very groovy tan suede jacket with fringe, an Indian beaded necklace and moccasin boots. Peter wore a very colorful, psychedelic outfit in hues of orange (his favorite), yellow, green and red, and was wearing various political buttons and a peace sign on a chain around his neck. He asked Dawn to paint a flower on his cheek with her cosmetics. She in turn had him draw a peace symbol on hers. Davy went with a Nehru jacket and tight trousers, with love beads and shiny leather boots. Micky had on a poncho over a turtleneck that everyone teased him looked like a tablecloth he swiped from an Indian restaurant. He had a much more resplendent, dramatic outfit planned for the next day, but he was keeping mum on it for now. He tossed several layers of love beads around his neck. His slim, striped stovepipe pants and zippered suede boots had Gabby's heart rate elevated a little bit, and mournful that they were going to have to keep their primal urges under control for the weekend. She wondered what she could get away with if she slipped her hand underneath that poncho.

The girls decked themselves out as more flamboyant versions of their regular selves. Dawn was garbed in classic hippie informalwear. Wendy was in tomboy mode and chose to wear one of Mike's leather jackets, Levi's jeans and a red sweater to protect her against the chill of the night, with a newsboy cap. Gabby wore a feminine vintage beaded sweater with birds appliqued all over it, and tight cigarette pants of black satin. Peter and Micky had strewn her neck with a few of their beaded necklaces but she didn't like them because they were too earthy, so she reached into her bag and drew out some tacky vintage beaded necklaces and wore those instead. She wore a men's blazer over her sweater and on it she pinned a number of buttons with anti-war slogans. She topped everything off with a black porkpie hat. She clipped her press pass to her breast pocket. She had managed to finagle one as a member of _Open City_ 's staff, so she could also gain access to areas that the Monkees could without their escort. She also hoped it would help her avoid any hassle with the fuzz.

They arrived at the fairgrounds and staked out some primo seats. Dawn, Micky and Davy volunteered to guard them while the others looked around backstage. Peter found his friend from Buffalo Springfield, Stephen Stills, on the stage talking with David Crosby, a member of The Byrds, another friend who would be performing with him during Buffalo's set. They were enthusing about the quality of the sound system that had been built for the festival. Stephen made the introductions on his side and Peter introduced Gabby, Mike and Wendy, taking care to give Wendy credit as a member of the band's management team, as she beamed proudly. Crosby gave her a lascivious wink so Mike slung his arm around her in a proprietary manner to let him know she was taken. Wendy inwardly giggled at this dick dueling match.

Wendy commented to Stills "I really dig your song _For What It's Worth_ about the Sunset Strip riots. I work in that neighborhood and it's like my home, and I feel like the cops have turned it into a war zone. It's just not right what's going down there."

Stills nodded his head in appreciation for her knowledge of his tune and its meaning. "Yeah, I was there in '66 the night all hell broke loose. It wasn't a riot, it was the cops deciding to give a beat down to some kids who were just living their lives freely under our good old Constitution."

"Amen. You know it," said Wendy, and stuck out her hand for a low-five, which he returned.

Mike and Peter were, as always, impressed with Wendy's ability to connect with people on a deeper level and to make a conversation more than just flattering small talk.

Stills offered "Hey, let me take you guys back stage for a bit and introduce you to some industry people you'll want to know. There's time before the show starts." He ushered them backstage and helped them make the rounds of other groups' managers, some record producers, agents and various other people in the business of making music. They all mostly just said a quick hello, with Mike intending to make a note of who they were and to get back to them later. Wendy, however, armed with some promotional gear with the Monkees logo and the tenacity of a mosquito in summertime, said that they had a demo for the Monkees' newest single and asked if they had time to hear it. Depending on their answer, and whether or not they'd be around for just the day or the whole festival, she scheduled appointments to play the demo for some folks during the Festival, or slipped them a copy of the demo to listen to on their own later. She also asked each of them whether there was anyone else who was going to be at the Festival whom they ought to make a point of meeting. Mike was impressed with her perseverance, salesmanship and savvy.

Gabby hung back and just observed, for the moment. Her angle on the concert was to talk to folks about the war and other aspects of political activism. She doubled back to catch a quick word with Stills about his opinions on the Sunset Strip Riot and the war, then thanked him for his time. She asked him if he knew the guys from Country Joe and the Fish, who would be performing the next day. They were known for their vocal opposition to the war, and it featured in their song lyrics. He said he did and promised to introduce her to them the next day. She thanked him and said goodnight.

As she was walking away, Crosby buttonholed her and started to ramble on about how he was sure that JFK had been shot by more than one gunman and asked her what she thought. She said she agreed, and they spent a convivial several minutes talking about how the government was conspiring to cover up any evidence of there being more than a lone gunman and they agreed that neither one of them bought the Warren Report's findings. There were too many holes in it and too many witnesses' testimony that had been ignored, and how about all those witnesses who had mysteriously died since the assassination, Crosby speculated. Someone called out to him telling him he was needed elsewhere, and he shook her hand vigorously, saying "Hey, you're a groovy chick. You really know where it's at! What's the name of that band you're with again?" She responded "I'm with the Monkees. I hope you'll be hearing them on the radio real soon." He said "Catch me sometime before the Festival is over. I want to hear that demo." She replied "Cool, that would be great. It's about the war. I think you'll dig it." Then he winked, waved and was gone.

Gabby made her way back to the seats to join Dawn, Micky and Davy. Eventually Wendy, Peter and Mike joined them, and the seats behind them had mostly filled up. There were folks standing around the perimeter of the chairs as well, as well as on top of a wall surrounding the seating area. It was not really a stadium, it was just an artificially created enclosure with folding chairs and a wall built surrounding it. Darkness had begun to fall when the first act took to the stage. Musicians introduced the acts, sometimes in round-robin fashion, while sometimes the introducers were musicians who were not appearing at all as performers. One of the organizers of the festival, John Phillips of The Mamas & The Papas, kicked things off by introducing the first act, The Association. Each group was allotted forty minutes, though not everyone took that much time.

Micky and Gabby basked in the luxury of being able to just sit and listen to great music and be enraptured by the great sounds of incredibly talented people. Moreover, they were over the moon getting to spend time together like they were on a date, holding each other's hands, caressing and petting each other, sneaking kisses and just making eye contact with each other. They were goofy and romantic and happy, blissfully happy. Micky was giddily enthralled photographing the various musical acts with his fancy camera courtesy of Gabby's newspaper, and Gabby couldn't wait to swap opinions about the performances and which songs they each liked the best.

The final act, Simon and Garfunkel held them spellbound with their performance of _The Sound of Silence_ , and Gabby and Micky whispered to each other, agreeing that they felt like they were worshiping at the church of music.

Then the next song, _Benedictus_ , sung in Latin, sounding like a sacred hymn, just reinforced that feeling and they swooned and swayed together and floated away on the dulcet tones of the harmonies, tune and guitar.

They finished up with a silly song about breakfast that mentioned cornflakes, which seemed perfect considering that's pretty much all the Monkees ate during their struggling musician days and was still a staple of Micky's diet. They looked at each other and laughed their heads off – they were punch drunk on music.

After the last act finished performing, David Crosby, who had introduced the evening's second act, The Paupers, spotted Gabby sitting near the front of the crowd and made a beeline for her. "Hey, Scoop," he said, flicking her press pass, "let's go listen to that demo. There's a party in my hotel room. Bring your Monkees friends." She looked around at everyone, who were clearly impressed and excited that she had made such an impression on the musician and rose as one and followed him out of the concert venue. He gathered a few more friends, like Stephen Stills, and fellow band members on the way, and they piled into a pair of limos and took off for a nearby hotel. He bragged that even though all the musicians were playing for free so the proceeds could be given to charity, they were getting ace accommodations and all the perks, so they may as well enjoy them.

They ended up at a local hotel not too far from the fairground. A group of adjoining hotel rooms were opened up and a party began with people coming and going. Food was laid out on tables, booze was set up on a wet bar in a suite and various other flat surfaces, and drugs of various choices were also discreetly tucked away in corners of the room for those who wanted to help themselves and partake.

The hotel was actually a series of bungalows, so there were as many people milling around outside and dragging chairs into the fresh air as there were in the rooms. The rooms were arranged around an enclosed courtyard. It was like a big open house. Crosby took Gabby by the hand and guided her over to a tape deck and yelled for quiet. He set it up with the demo tape and let it rip. Everyone gathered round and listened with ears that were professional, not for entertainment's sake. There was some nodding and stroking of chins, some eyes opening with surprised approval and some eyes closed in order to concentrate harder to hear what was there and what might be missing that ought to be there. After the music finished, people mulled it over and the party started up again, with people talking amongst themselves and then eventually approaching various members of the band and giving them their opinion.

Crosby confined himself to speaking with Gabby, with whom he now had some weird rapport, and Micky made sure he made eye contact with him to remind him that he was the one he ought to be talking to about the demo. Eventually Crosby took the hint and gave Micky some pointers about how the song could be improved but said it was a solid effort and thought it had a great message and he liked the guitar work. He asked who wrote it and Micky told him he did, which elicited a hearty handshake and a slap on the back. Then Crosby said "You got yourself a good man there, Scoop!" He chucked her on the chin, winked at her, and took off for one of the dark corners where the contraband substances were being stored.

Micky guided Gabby outside and around to a dark corner of the courtyard. He backed her up against a tree and started smothering her with passionate kisses. When he let her come up for air, she said "Micky, what's got into you?"

He said "Watching some other guy want you makes me want you even more. Plus, it's been hours since I've been with you and not been able to kiss you. I'm wanting you and missing you. I can't help myself."

She laughed and said "How can I resist sweet-talking like that, my Micky? But seriously, I'm betting Crosby is like that with every female who crosses his path."

"Nope, he had an intelligent conversation with you. That means he really digs you. If you were just a groupie, he wouldn't have bothered to do that. You gotta learn the rules of the jungle, Gabby. An intelligent, beautiful woman is an incredible turn-on. That's what made me want you so much that first night as soon as you opened your mouth. I knew you were something special. You made me change my whole life for you. You are so special, so incredibly special. Have I told you that lately?"

She kissed him and said "Not in the last twenty-four hours at least."

"Sorry, I've been slacking off. Dammit I wish we didn't have to bunk up with Davy. Wonder if there's somewhere around here where we can sneak off to."

"Micky, we can't go having sex in someone else's bed!"

"Why not, that's what people do at these parties?"

"And how do you know that, Micky?" Gabby inquired, eyeing him with suspicion and a bit of displeasure.

"Don't look at me like that. Word gets around, Davy tells me things. You know."

"Okay, well that means I definitely don't want to do it then, if it's something Davy does."

"Awwww, Gabby, I'm horny!"

"Yeah, Micky, I get it. So am I. I tell you what. There's only one thing we can do as far as I can see. We can ditch this party and hitch a ride back to the hotel while everyone is here. But that means no networking, and for what? So we can have sex, which we can do plenty of for the rest of our lives? Just hang in there. It's just for the weekend. You'll survive. Maybe we can at least have a shower together or something. But you've got to promise not to make Davy uncomfortable. He's already in a bad way, being celibate and without a date for this weekend, though if he did have a date, he'd have to be celibate like we all are. But you know what I mean. He's looking to you to set a good example for him. He's depending on you. It's like you're his sober buddy keeping him from going out on a bender. So just hold it together. Okay?"

"Okay. Just let me cop a quick feel while we're out here," said Micky as he slipped his hands under her sweater and ran his hands over her breasts. He pulled down her bra cups and found her nipples and twisted and squeezed them while he kissed her passionately with plenty of tongue. She panted and squirmed and moaned "Micky, you're making this harder on both of us."

Micky replied, "No, I'm positive that only one of us is getting harder," and he removed his hands from her sweater. He chuckled and said "Okay, back to the party?"

Gabby rearranged her hair and hat and the rest of her clothes and said "Yeah, party, yeah, okay. Right. Ahem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	59. Chapter 59

As it happened, the Monkees never did make it back to their hotel rooms that night, because nobody was sober enough to drive them back to the fairground where their cars were parked and the limo drivers had long disappeared. So everyone sacked out wherever they could find a spot, and Micky and Gabby were lucky enough to nab a pullout couch in Crosby's room (he insisted on taking care of his good friend Scoop and her great guy Mick the Knife). Since Crosby was so intoxicated that he was beyond incoherent and passed out, Micky got his wish and was able to slip it to Gabby very quietly and got off while she stuffed a pillow in his mouth, then he used his magic fingers ("ah, pick it, Luther") to bring her to her very own mostly silent climax. She warned him that he'd better savor this moment and not get used to it because she absolutely refused to do this with Davy in the room. Doing it in the room with an unconscious rock star she'd never see again was one thing, but a dear friend who was trying to reform his horndog ways was another thing altogether.

Everyone eventually regrouped at around nine a.m. and a limo was summoned to return them to the fairground. They decided they wanted to go back to the hotel and take showers, change clothes, catch a decent meal and buy some snacks, since food was in short supply at the fairground. They all got ready to go and Micky was the showstopper this time without a doubt. He had assembled an outfit that was one for the ages. In honor of his American Indian heritage, he explained, his mother had had a tailor make for him a genuine buckskin suit, and had acquired an authentic Indian feathered headdress. He looked regal and truly spectacular.

Gabby asked him about the origins of this heritage and he said it was from his mom's side of the family. He explained that he had been involved in supporting American Indian causes for some years, sending money to educational and legal defense funds, and visiting a reservation once. She asked him to take her to visit a reservation someday and his face lit up at the prospect of sharing that experience with her, not only because she took an interest in his heritage, but because it was another indication that she wanted to share a future with him.

The girls dressed in layers since the music would be playing both in the afternoon and the evening, and they were close to Northern California, which can be fairly chilly in the summertime. They all wore variations on the outfits they had on the day before, but started their first layer with tank tops or t-shirts and carried heavier layers that could be added on later. The other guys followed suit.

When they got to the fairground, they took some time to stroll around and check out the stands that people had set up to sell their handmade crafts, posters and jewelry. There were also people scattered around painting people's faces, demonstrating how to make crafted items, and playing instruments. There were a surprising number of children in attendance and, to Gabby's delight, animals, including not just dogs but even a guy with a monkey with the word "LOVE" written across its forehead. Micky watched Gabby closely as she marveled at how many women just strapped their babies to their back and carried on with their activities as if there were nothing unusual about having them as appendages. But still, she gravitated mostly to the dogs, asking to pet each one as they passed them by.

They found seats and settled in for the afternoon's performances. The second act, Big Brother and the Holding Company, took their collective breath away, when a young woman named Janis Joplin performed a song called Ball 'n' Chain. She wailed and moaned and purred and enticed with a blues-driven performance that utterly flattened every living thing in the stadium. The power in her lungs sucked out all the oxygen from the air and left everyone else gasping. She was beyond dynamic. She was cataclysmic.

After Country Joe and the Fish performed their set, Gabby left to try to grab an interview with them and rushed backstage. They were on a high from performing and seemed happy that someone had particularly wanted to interview them not only about their music but their views about the war, so they were very welcoming to Gabby. They sat down and gave her plenty of time and they rapped for about a half hour. They talked about the fact that the band originated in Berkeley at the same time that Gabby had gone to school there, and she told them about a gig of theirs that she had caught. They were pleased to meet an original fan and they swapped stories about Berkeley. They were interested in hearing about her involvement with the Vietnam Day Committee and wondered why they had never formally crossed paths before since they also had been anti-war activists. She mentioned to them that she was helping to organize a war protest in L.A. later that month and invited them to take part.

She told them about the Monkees and asked them if they wanted to hear a demo tape of their new song about Vietnam. They said they did, so they went in search of someone with a playback deck and found one, and they all stood around listening to the music, nodding their approval. They said the dug the vibe and thought it had an important message. Then she thanked them for their feedback and the interview, gave them a business card and said goodbye.

Gabby returned to the seats to find Micky bouncing his knees and tapping a beat on them. This was Micky-speak for "I'm edgy and need to go stretch my legs and do something else right now and by the way I haven't kissed you for ages and I need a hug and can we get out of here for a while?" Gabby smiled and hugged herself inwardly, loving how she could read his body language so well. She silently held out her hand to him and with a relieved look he took it and rose from his chair, put his arm around her and they strolled away for parts unknown.

It was a glorious, sunny day and the lawn surrounding the music venue was scattered with individuals and couples making themselves at home. Many of the couples were getting very friendly with no sense of self-consciousness, and Micky had a hangdog look on his face that was speaking of yearning to be let off the leash. Gabby sighed, shrugged her shoulders, and looked for a spot that had at least a modicum of privacy and sat down on the ground with Micky. He carefully removed his resplendent headdress and placed the camera on the ground next to it, and then took her in his arms and swept her away in wave after wave of kisses.

"Missed you. Need you. Want you. Gabriella." He spoke in short breaths between kisses. At first he pulled her into his lap and she wrapped her legs around him, but that wasn't close enough contact for him. He laid her down on the ground and pressed himself down on her, like the morning when they were re-establishing physical contact between them, when she asked him to make love to her that way, to dominate her, to own her. He was feeling the lack of her on this trip and needed to re-establish contact again.

She seemed to pick up on his thoughts and paused between kisses and said "We did this once before, it was that morning when we made love after not having touched for a few days. Are you feeling scared you're losing me, Micky, or are you just horny?"

Micky lifted his head and gave it some thought. "I think mostly I'm horny, but a little of me is thinking about the fact that we're both here, doing our professional things that don't involve each other and yet we're so close in physical proximity. It's kind of messing with my head that I can't have you the way I want you. I need to get it straight in my mind that you and I are both here to work, and then maybe also have fun if there's time and opportunity. I can't have as much fun as I want and I can't get enough of you, and my immature brain is having a temper tantrum. Like I said, I have some growing up to do, and I know it. That's why I hope you'll bear with me and be patient with me."

"Of course, Micky, of course I will. I get what you're feeling. I feel like I'm stuck in arrested development myself. I'm way behind where I ought to be, and as a matter of fact, I was just reminding myself recently how far ahead of me you are. You've been on your own for years and I just got out of school and have only been supporting myself for a few months. My folks were still helping me out while I was up at Berkeley, while I was still hanging out playing student activist even though I had graduated. I was hanging out like a zombie shell of myself in denial about my situation with Nick and my parents couldn't pry me away from the hell I had created for myself. I wanted to just live like a bum but they wouldn't let me, and when I had to leave the dorms after graduation I was living with Nick so he was sort of supporting me, too, which is part of how he guilted me into staying with him. I wasn't an adult. I was relying on other people to look out for me. Talk about being an immature brat! So I'm not judging you. I look up to you."

Micky ran his hands over Gabby's smooth bob and exhaled a huge breath. "Wow, that's amazing to hear. Thank you for telling me that. You always give me a new perspective on things, Gabby. All you have to do is give me your honest opinion about something and it can turn my view about things completely around. Sometimes the things you say, particularly when I first met you, were kind of hard to take, but I still valued them. And sometimes, the things you say, they just make me feel like a million bucks. But no matter what, you always tell me what I need to hear. You really go deep inside me. You got there quick and you're in there really deep. You know what I mean?"

Gabby wrapped her hands around Micky's back and squeezed him tight. "Yeah, I do. I feel the same way about you. That's why I say 'we are one.' Because I feel like we've bonded so tightly. We're still independent and ourselves, but we communicate and bond so well together. I feel that way especially when we're making love. We're a team. It's always about both of us. It might be one at a time, or both at the same time, but it's always going to be us doing it together. I never feel lonely when I'm making love with you."

Micky looked mystified. "Lonely? Have you felt lonely before when you made love, or is that too personal a question to ask?"

"It's not too personal for you to ask, provided you don't mind knowing the answer because obviously it involves my past. You want to hear about it?"

Micky thought about it for a nanosecond and said "Yes, I do want to hear it, if you want to share it. I'll always want to know more about you because it will help me know you better and I can be there for you better. But it's up to you."

Gabby rolled over to her side and said "Well, the fact is, I don't think what Nick and I were doing was making love, looking back on it. I mean, I thought I was making love, but I think he was just fucking me. And the longer it went on, the more in denial I got about it. But the tipoff was that I was lonely when we had sex. He didn't care about my pleasure. He didn't really care about me as a person. He wasn't romantic and he wasn't about me getting off. He didn't take the time to get to know my body or honor it. He just enjoyed it and used it and then that was it. If I managed to enjoy myself, which I rarely did, that was just sort of incidental to the act. It was like being a bystander. That's why I told you I didn't want to be your blow-up doll or a notch on your bedpost. I think that's what I was to him. I think him capturing me was the prize and once he got what he wanted, he kind of lost interest in me as a person, as a woman – I was more like an object. It made him look good to claim me and it de-fanged me as a rival in the organization, which for all I know was the larger part of his agenda, other than making me his sex slave and demoralizing me because it gave him a sick thrill. Eventually even that wasn't enough for him, the sadistic bastard. He had to rough me up and humiliate me. So yeah, that's a lonely place to be. Because he knew I couldn't tell anyone about that. I didn't even tell my best friend about it. You were the only one I ever told about it before I spilled the beans to everybody that night at the Pad when I was fighting for your right not to have to be thrown to the groupies."

Micky wrapped Gabby in his arms and reassured her "Gabby, you were incredibly brave to live through that and to share that with me and everyone else. I'm grateful you're willing to talk about this. I hope you find it helpful. It doesn't help you to keep it inside. You need to get that junk out of your system."

"I think the most helpful thing for me has been starting a healthy relationship with you. You've restored my faith in love and helped me learn how that works again. And I think maybe I've done that for you, too. You were kind of fucked up in that department, too, am I right?"

Micky laughed, "Yeah, that's an understatement."

"So let's get back to the part where you were kissing me and telling me how much you want me and not worry about who's the least mature. As usual, we can agree that we both have growing up to do and we're doing it together. That's the important thing, right?"

Micky smooshed his nose with Gabby's and said "Yeah, babe, that's always the best part of everything with you, even the bad stuff is okay when we do it together." He eased her flat on the ground again and crawled back on top of her and started kissing her, this time with less urgency and more finesse. She ran her fingers through his wild curls.

"Mmmm, I love these curls. They go right to some part of my nervous system that just zaps me and renders me helpless."

"See, that's alchemy. There's no scientific explanation, but it just works on some base level. It's like, what makes two people find each other attractive? How come we all sorted out into couples the way we did, us three Monkees and you three girls? It's just the way things were meant to be."

Gabby started to giggle. "Yeah, I don't think you'd have lasted five minutes with Dawn. She'd have had you high as a kite and have you doing God knows what else that's mind expanding, not to mention she can be pretty bossy. And Wendy would be in tears every five minutes if you weren't reassuring her or saying just the right thing and you'd constantly be in the doghouse, other than when she wasn't telling you to go to hell and stop bossing her around. Those girls are a handful and they found just the right guys to take them on. Not to say I'm not a total pain in the ass myself."

"Yeah, but you're MY pain in the ass. In fact, where _is_ that ass? I've been missing it." He flipped her over on top of him and took a couple of heaping handfuls of her ass and gave a firm squeeze that made her jump and squirm.

Gabby rested her chin on Micky's chest and just grinned at him. She reached out and tickled his chin, which was a bit hairy since he decided not to bother shaving for the weekend. "I like it when you don't shave once in a while. It looks cute. You look like a wolf man. And it feels good on my skin. I look forward to getting back home and having you rub that hairy chin all over me."

"Ah, jeez, Gabby, there you go again, reminding me of what I can't have! How come you're not getting my mind off things by talking about literature or politics or women's rights or movies or all that stuff you know so much about?"

Gabby grinned at him. "Because I'm horny, too, and I want you and I miss you and your dick is poking my coochie and I can't stop thinking about you either. I'm only human, Micky. So let's be like the rest of these crazy love-in hippies all around us and have a good roll in the hay and not worry about things, okay? We'll never see any of these people again. Just don't get too carried away."

Micky's face lit up and he resumed his former activities where they started, with him on top of Gabby, pressing into her and kissing her deeply. He ran his hands all over her and she allowed him to lift up her shirt and bra and caress her breasts and lick and suck them. She lifted up his shirt to get some skin on skin and thought to herself that under the circumstances, it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Micky felt like if he had a mind to, he could give them both orgasms by just pressing against her through their clothes, but he didn't want to walk around with a wet spot, and so for the first time since that day they got naked before they went swimming at her apartment's pool, he didn't go any further with her than touching her breasts. Somehow, having to hold back made him feel like it was going to build an exquisite tension that would lead to an incredible explosion when they finally were able to make love again, and suddenly, he didn't feel glum or frustrated anymore. He felt like he could channel the energy into a fantasy, and he told her about it.

"Gabby, I want you and I can't have you. We haven't not given each other orgasms since the first times we got naked together, those first few times we were together in your bedroom. I feel like I just crossed over some bridge and now I know I can wait it out. Because when I do finally get you alone when we get home, it's going to be fucking incredible. It's like that moment before we made love for the first time. The moment before we'll make love again will be crackling with energy and anticipation. I almost feel glad we can't make love now. I won't take it for granted."

"That's one way to make lemonade out of lemons, Micky. I have to say that you just made my whole uterus contract, telling me your fantasy. It's screaming at me with want now. I'm all squirmy inside."

"Good. Let's hang on to that feeling. I'm going to squeeze your hand every time I feel that way myself. I'm going to take your hand and give it a squeeze and you'll know that what I'm thinking of is the next time I can get you alone, naked and telling me what you want and how you want it so that I can make you feel as much pleasure as possible."

"Ooohhhh, Micky, you are goooood. Damn good."

"This is your life now, Gabby. All that horror show stuff that came before is behind you. And whatever we have still to learn, we'll learn it together. Whatever growing up we have to do, we'll do that together, too. However long it takes. I don't care how long. I'm with you. Are we one on that?"

Gabby looked Micky seriously in the eye and said "Micky, I am ready to take that journey with you. I feel like we've already started it. We're both a bit unsteady and learning as we go, but as long as we know we're still figuring things out as we go and we don't have all the answers and are going to try to catch each other when we fall, then I feel confident about taking that journey with you. I love you. We are one."

"I'm going to love growing up with you, Gabby. And maybe even growing older with you. Who knows, right?"

"That's true, Micky. I'm definitely not ruling that out. In fact, I hope that's what will happen.

Micky looked incredibly pleased and kissed her gently all over her face. He was content with what he felt was incredible progress and didn't want to press his luck any further, so he decided not to discuss anything else. He just wanted to end their conversation on a positive note and express the rest of his sentiments silently with kisses and hugs and physical affection. He knew how brave Gabby was being making such pronouncements and commitments and he didn't want to push things any further along.

He thought of the dogs they had seen and also the babies strapped to the backs of the young women and realized that they symbolized stages of development. Gabby wasn't a baby person right now, and might never be. But right now he loved her and he hoped that someday he could make her his forever love, and if he could at least get her to commit to a home and a dog, that would be enough for him. And if some day he found that wasn't enough, he'd let her know. She might someday become a baby person. When he met her, she said wasn't even a tutti frutti person, but it wasn't really true. She didn't know her own mind, and neither did he. He had no idea what being a famous, successful musician was like, so it was hard for him to prognosticate his own future and how a family would fit into that. His ability to commit to anything was as big a question mark as hers was. For now, the only thing he truly yearned for was for them to dwell under the same roof and for her to truly be his with no reservations on her part. So be it an apartment or a house, and be it a houseplant or a dog, he wanted a partnership with her and then later on they could discuss bigger things, like marriage and kids and forevers. There just was no need for any of that right now. He had no more appetite for it than she did. He felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	60. Chapter 60

The Monkees were invited to eat dinner in a café that was below the stage set up for the artists. Crosby and Stills had decided to take them under their wing and give them the full monty experience, hopefully as a preview of good things to come in their future. The organizers of the Festival had asked the artists to perform for no pay, but they had provided excellent amenities, including excellent food, even steak and lobster, so the Monkees and their gals ate better than they ever got to, and were constantly whiplashing as famous or soon-to-be-famous performers sauntered by with plates full of food or drinks in their hands. It was quite a heady experience.

Stills sipped from a _coupe_ full of champagne and turned to Peter and said "Buddy, everyone has picked out someone they want to introduce their act. How about you introduce us tomorrow?"

Peter squeaked "Me? But everyone who's doing introductions is a big time musician!"

"Come on, Pete. Tom Smothers is going to be introducing the acts tonight. He's not exactly Dylan."

Wendy pinched Pete's thigh really hard and he swung his head around towards her and squeaked again. She gave him a stern look indicating he should accept the invitation, but he remained speechless. She sighed and said "Stephen, Pete would love to introduce you guys. He's just overcome with gratitude, and he's a humble guy, as I'm sure you remember from back in your Village days. Thanks so much for asking."

Crosby smirked and said "You Monkees sure do have some firecrackers in your group. They keep you all in line. I like it." He slung his arm around Wendy, who smiled pleasantly and stood up, shrugging him off tactfully, moving over to Mike and placing her arms around his neck. She said "Yeah, aren't they just the luckiest guys to have such loving partners?" and kissed Mike passionately. Mike swooned a bit and then gave Crosby a shit-eating grin. Crosby looked at Dawn and said "How about you, darlin', are you taken, too?" Dawn gave him a kind, compassionate look and said "Yeah, Peter's gonna be my hubby as soon as the Monkees hit it big, so thanks for helping get us to the altar faster. We're real grateful. You'll definitely be getting a wedding invitation." Crosby just shook his head and said "Man, I gotta go find me a woman. That Joplin chick's a firecracker. Wonder if she's hooked up with anyone." With that, he sauntered away.

Gabby giggled and confided "Wow, he sure spreads it around liberally. He already tried it on with me yesterday, but he's really easy going. He found out I had Micky and now Micky's like his new best friend. He calls him 'Mick the Knife' and he let us sleep in his room last night."

Davy said with a shudder "Yeh, well speaking about last night, let's make sure we don't have a repeat of that scene. I may be small, but I ended up sleeping in a chair and that didn't do me back any good. I say if we get invited anywhere tonight, we bring our own wheels so that we can get back to the hotel if we want to. I want to sleep in me own bed. I'll even volunteer not to get totally plastered so I can play chauffeur. Since I don't reckon I'll be pulling any birds, I just want to get a good night's sleep."

"Thanks, Davy, you're a pal." Micky patted him on the back and gave him a look of approval at his commitment to his new attitude.

Mike complained "Yeah, well I'm a big feller and even though I got a couch to share with Wendy, mah feet didn't near fit on that damn thing and I was all twisted up and finally gave up and just slept on the floor. Mah back's killin' me, too, so I'm with you, Davy. Let's drive our own cars to wherever we end up tonight, if we even end up anywhere. I'm kinda still strung out from last night, so I don't care if we just go back to the hotel and get some shut eye."

Wendy roared "What?! Nesmith, what are you talking about? This is your life's work we're talking about! You need to get with the program and roll with the traffic! You need to go where the action is, wherever that is. You were in the military! Didn't you ever have to stand watch overnight? Didn't you ever have to do something tiring that tested your endurance? Suck it up! You can sleep when we get back to Malibu!"

Mike looked at Wendy like she was Medusa and had grown snakes out of her head. She had gone absolutely berserk with her ambition to launch the Monkees' career and to use this Festival as the launching pad. Mike was torn between feelings of fear and pride. He had created a monster. She had gone from this timid, insecure girl who didn't know what she wanted in the world or how to get it, to a fierce warrior who would do whatever it took to accomplish what she felt it was within her capability to attain and she believed firmly in her own abilities. On the other hand, she was taking over control of the band from him and he wasn't so sure he could let that stand. But on the other hand, he was so proud of how she was coming into her own and knew she should be nurtured and encouraged, not to mention that so far, she was doing a damned good job. He opted to encourage her and to leave his own reservations unspoken. He realized she was on the right track and that she wasn't being unreasonable.

"You're right, Wendy. That's what we're here for. This is the chance of a lifetime. Troops, let's all try to do as much as we can this weekend. We'll be smart about it, and take our own cars so we don't get stranded and sleepin' on floors, but let's squeeze as much juice outta this opportunity as we can. And let's agree that nobody does any hard drugs on the rest of this trip. We need to keep our wits about us. The last thing we need is a visit to the medical station. I saw the stuff they had at that party last night and I didn't like the looks of it. Right, Pete? Right, Dawn? Right everybody?" Everyone nodded their heads, though it took Peter and Dawn a few moments longer to agree.

The evening concert was a study in contrasts. Some of it was pure rock 'n roll, some of it was an absolute bop, and some of it was a new brand of music that had never been heard by the audience before, either because of demographics or geography. Moby Grape, the first act, despite being given a gloomy introduction by Tom Smothers as having a hard task of opening the concert, did an enjoyable set of hard driving and psychedelic rock 'n roll numbers. Hugh Masekela was unknown to the audience, a South African trumpeter with a jazz sound that was brand new to American ears, some of it indigenous and some of it blues-based.

Crosby was up next on rhythm guitar and lead vocals with The Byrds. Between songs he would ramble off on tangents that were either topical, such as his theory about JFK's assassination not being the work of a lone gunman, which he had previewed for Gabby the day before, or he irreverently reminded the audience that their mothers did drugs and they just wouldn't admit it or didn't know it, or some such nonsense. His fellow bandmates looked annoyed at him and as if they'd have been glad to have muzzled him, but he was just such a damn good musician and vocalist, and the set was excellent despite his digressions.

An ethereal soloist named Laura Nyro was up next.

Gabby was transfixed as much by her beauty as by the clear and haunting tone of her voice. She was beautifully costumed in a black dress, her fingernails were immaculately manicured in red polish, and her jet black hair was swept up in a complicated coiffure. Gabby didn't feel the slightest bit shallow at admiring her looks, as she felt that presentation was part of the artist's gift. This woman had it all and her haunting melodies benefited greatly by the way she put them across with her physicality. She reminded Gabby of one of her college professors who used to transfix her with her lectures on a fairly dry subject. She'd just stare at her for the entire hour and admire her bone structure, her naturally curly hair, the creative way she wore her clothes and the interesting jewelry she wore, and the words that came out of her mouth suddenly were more interesting as a result. That was why Gabby always took care to have her own personal style. It made a difference in how people perceived you. It spoke for you and drew people in. Like it or not, surface issues matter, and better that you allow them to work to your benefit and make the most of what you have, even if you don't have perfection to work with. Gabby knew, for instance, that she wasn't svelte, nor tall, nor California blonde. But she had confidence and attitude, style and taste. So did this woman on stage. She admired women who had charisma and weren't ashamed to put that across with their physical appearance, nor hide their femininity but rather celebrate it.

Gabby decided she wanted to interview this extraordinary woman after her set, so after she watched Jefferson Airplane, she skipped the next set with Booker T & the M.G.s (she gave Wendy strict instructions to take notes for her). Laura Nyro was happy to discuss what it meant to be a woman in a male-dominated program and industry, and to discuss the issues that had been passing through Gabby's mind, about fashion, presentation, and self-image. Then they had a good chinwag about whether it was a good idea to date a man who was in the business. Nyro cautioned Gabby to be careful, that the music business was all-consuming and very cut-throat, and even though she was still very young, she already felt old beyond her years. Gabby remarked that she thought her musician boyfriend had the opposite problem, that it had retarded his maturity, and they both had a good laugh. Gabby thanked her for giving her the time and her perspective. She felt she now had the makings of her _The Shrew_ column for the issue on the Festival.

Gabby made it back to the group's seats in time to see the last act, which was fortunate, since she was witnessing history. Otis Redding was the last performer of the evening, and this was his first major performance in front of a predominantly White crowd. He sang soul and rhythm and blues songs and received the most electric and vocal response from the audience of the night. He interacted with them and they with him. He asked if they were "the love crowd" and a great cheer went up. He ended his last song with the added line ""I got to go, y'all, I don't wanna go." Nobody could know that six months later, he would perish in a plane crash, at the age of 26.

After the show, Wendy insisted that they should head backstage to see what if any sort of party might be in the offing. Fortunately, they didn't even have to get that far before they were invited back to the hotel where they had partied the night before.

Stills clapped Peter on the shoulder and said "Okay, Pete, let's get you loosened up and practice your intro. We need you for a jam session and we found a banjo for you. You game?"

Pete's face lit up and said "Yeah, you bet!"

Stills nodded his head towards the rest of the guys and asked "Any of them bring their instruments? We could use a few more hands."

Mike piped up "Well, I just happen to have mah Gretsch tuned up and ready to go."

Stills raised an eyebrow and asked "Gretsch, huh? That's pretty rich for a starving musician. Impressive. Let's hear what you can do with that thing. Climb aboard the limo, Tex."

Wendy stepped up and said "We've got our gear in the car. We'll follow you to your place."

Stills shrugged his shoulders and said, "Cool. See you there."

Everybody piled into the Monkeemobile and the girls' car and drove to the party hotel. This time there were many more people there but fewer non-celebrities. Almost everyone there belonged to one of the bands that had already played a set and was now happy to be blowing off steam. There were also a few attending the party who had flown in early who were due to perform the next day. One of the people who fit into the latter category was a rangy, petite, flamboyantly dressed Black man who introduced himself to the Monkees as Jimi Hendrix. He saw Mike pull his blonde, custom Gretsch twelve-string guitar out of its case and immediately asked if he could examine it. Mike warily passed it to Jimi, who plugged it in and started to do things with it that Mike had never heard being done with a guitar. In fact, nobody in the room had ever heard such guitar work before. He used reverb, distortion and overdrive to produce a unique combination of sounds. He also was an acrobat who could play the guitar with the instrument above his head, behind his back and between his legs. He giggled as he performed these maneuvers and it became apparent that he was high on more than life and music. Then he handed Mike back his guitar, shook his hand and said "Thanks, man, that's a sweet instrument. I know she's your baby. A man who's willing to hand over something that precious to me is a friend for life. I'm Jimi."

Mike introduced himself and the rest of the guys and the gals, and they sat down and began to jam, with Jimi plucking away on his own hand-painted guitar, splashed with psychedelic designs. Micky began to pound out a beat on his bongos, but he was so entranced by Jimi's unique talent he lost track of what he was doing and just stopped to listen. Jimi paused, looked at Micky and said "Man, why'd you stop?"

Micky said "Wow, I didn't even realize you were listening to me!" Then he resumed a beat and Jimi picked up improvising to it again and Mike followed along. Davy syncopated with his maracas.

Meanwhile, Peter was strolling down memory lane with Crosby and Stills, playing folk music on the banjo and smoking weed. He figured this didn't cross the line that Mike had drawn against hard drugs, and Dawn was keeping watch over him to make sure he didn't smoke too many spliffs by taking a lipstick from her purse and marking off hatch marks on her arm for each one.

Crosby nodded with approval at Dawn's accounting system. "Pete, you better marry that girl quick. She's a keeper."

Peter gave her a glazed smile and said "Yeah, she's gonna be a wonderful wife and mother. She's the best thing that ever happened to me, other than becoming a musician." He put his instrument down and started to kiss her like there was nobody else in the room. Dawn gave the guys a look that said "Sorry, he's not in control of his faculties," and they returned her apologetic glance with prurient leers.

"Okay, Pete. That's enough. We're at a party, remember? We're not at home. We're out in public."

"Oh, right. Okay. Should we go find a room or go home?"

Dawn rolled her eyes and Stills silently motioned to his room. Dawn mouthed the words "Thank you," and pulled Peter up to his feet, guided him into the room and kicked the door closed with her foot. She sat him down on the bed and he fell down on his side, giggling softly but hysterically.

"Peter. You are really something else. Those guys are your peers. You are here to impress them. And now they think you are a stoner horndog. What am I gonna do with you?" She had her hands on her hips and tried to look at him with a stern look, but she was constitutionally incapable of getting mad at Peter because he just didn't have a malicious bone in his body and he simply lived by the motto "If it feels good, do it, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone."

"Do? What are _you_ going to do? How about you come over here and let me tell you my fantasy right at this moment." Peter was beckoning her with his forefinger curling and twitching.

Dawn walked towards the bed and sat down. "Okay, Pete. What's on your mind?"

Pete looked up at her and Dawn couldn't help notice that he looked like a cherub, with those little dimples and cheeks reddened by the heat from the effect of the weed and the warmth of the evening, not to mention his golden hair that forever was falling into his eyes and framing his boyish face.

"Well, I want to be a rock 'n roller and be at a party and do what they do at those parties. And what they do at those parties is, they get stoned and they jam and they have sex with hot chicks in other people's beds. I know that because Davy's told me all about it. And cuz Micky's told me, and cuz word gets around. So that's what I want tonight. That's my fantasy. And guess what? I'm two thirds of the way there. Want to make the rest of it come true?" He twitched his eyebrows, pursed his lips and gave an attempt at a come hither, seductive look that he was really too stoned to deliver adequately.

Dawn rolled her eyes heavenward again and said "Peter, it's kind of tacky, isn't it? I mean he'll know what we're up to."

Peter shook his head and his bangs swung back and forth like a curtain of golden corn silk. "Noooo, you don't get it. Stephen gave us his room, so it's not like he cares. He knows the score. It's like a layup in basketball. It's like a meatball pitch in baseball. It's like a – "

"Okay, Pete I get it. Enough with the sports similes. So you want to totally embrace the hedonistic rock star lifestyle, and you want that for me, too? You want to get down in the gutter like all those gross rockers?"

"But Dawn, it's not gross if it's you and me! We love each other. We're engaged to be married. You're going to have my babies someday."

"But Peter, it's still gross. It's undignified and it's not worthy of either one of us. I really hope you succeed in this profession you've chosen, and I'm going to support you in every way I can. But I don't want you to adopt all the ways and rituals of how things are done. Haven't you noticed that the people who do things like fucking people in random places also overdose on drugs and have meaningless encounters with strangers and one night stands with groupies and get divorced from their wives and get depressed and commit suicide and die young? It's all of a piece. It's a slippery slope. You're an innocent angel right now. That's the man I want to marry. I don't want to marry a debauched rock star. I don't mind marrying a rock star, but not one who's gotten down in the gutter. So that's why I'm drawing the line. I love our fantasy sex life. But this isn't a fantasy. It's a nightmare and I won't do it. If a fantasy of yours doesn't take my well-being into account, then it's a non-starter. That's the new rule, though I'm disappointed in you that I should have even had to spell that out for you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Peter sat up on the bed and tried to focus his eyes on Dawn's eyes and said "Well, not completely, but I think it's because I'm totally stoned, so I think we should talk about this again when I'm completely straight so you can make sure I get the message, because I want to make sure I do right by you, Dawn. But I respect you and I will never want to do anything that hurts you. You've taken care of my heart and made me a man in the most loving and caring and gentlest of ways. I'd never want to do something that violates your trust or compromises your values or does violence to your inner spirit. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Peter. Now that you know where I stand on this, I feel better. And I do think we should talk about this again when you're sober. Because this is our life going forward and this is obviously going to come up again. I don't want you doing this with me, and I don't want you looking for anyone else to do it with. So if you feel like this is something you really need in your life, then I want you to tell me so that we can get unengaged and you can go find someone else, because I'm positive you're going to cheat on me if it's some fantasy of yours that goes unfulfilled that needs to be fulfilled. You dig what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, Dawn, but I don't want or need anyone but you. Nothing or nobody. I only want you."

"Okay, Pete. We'll talk about it another time. Let's go back to the party. Or would you rather sleep off your buzz? I can leave you here."

"No, I'm coming with you. I love you, Dawn. Will you forgive me or am I in the doghouse?"

"I forgive you, Peter, but I do want to discuss this with you when you're sober. You need to hear this and know it. I won't tolerate you thinking you can have some rock 'n roll lifestyle that compromises my values. I'll let you go or I'll fight for you. But I won't settle for this."

"Okay, Dawn. Tell me this tomorrow and kick my ass with it. Don't let me lose you. Nothing means as much to me as you and our babies."

"Except your music, Peter. That's how it needs to be. I know that."

"Yeah. I do, too. But still, that doesn't mean I can't have you and babies, too."

"Of course, Pete. You can have me and babies, too. Just behave yourself and honor me, and you can have it all. I want to give it all to you. But you have responsibilities to me, too. So we'll talk about this later. I love you."

"I love you, Dawn. You're my sunshine and my moonlight and my stars and my planets and all the matter in my body. Micky tells Gabby that she's his everything, so I can't use that one – it's taken. But you get what I mean."

Dawn giggled. "Yeah, I get it. Boy, Pete, for a songwriter, you're pretty fucking inarticulate when you're stoned. That's another reason to lay off the pot now. I think you've maxed out." She kissed him lightly and gave him a hug.

"Yeah, good point. Verrrrry good point."

They slipped their arms around each other's waists and returned to the party. Dawn spotted Stills and she gave him an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. He shook his head and pursed his lips in a gesture that said "Hey, no big deal." Nice guy, she thought.

Dawn decided that Peter was now in no condition to make any positive contribution to the Monkees' fortunes and wanted to get him back to the hotel. She made the rounds and asked who if anyone else wanted to come back with her in her car. Davy was getting edgy because there were several women who had been hitting on him and he was feeling like an alcoholic standing outside a bar on election night and just wanted to get away from the scene, so he asked to go back with her. Micky was utterly enchanted with Jimi Hendrix and Jimi was fascinated with Mike, so they stayed at the party with Wendy and Gabby. After a couple more hours of jamming and rapping, the guys and gals were ready to drop and bade everyone goodnight. They wished Jimi well with his set for the next night. They headed back to the hotel and were more than ready to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	61. Chapter 61

The Sunday program was an odd one. The featured performer for the daytime concert was a musician named Ravi Shankar, whose name was just beginning to percolate in the music scene as a collaborator with the Beatles via George Harrison, who had met him through Crosby and the Byrds, which is presumably how he came to the attention of the organizers of the Festival. He played the sitar, a stringed instrument akin to a guitar, and formed a trio with Alla Rakha playing tabla, a type of drum, and Kamala Shastri Chakravarty on the tambura, another string instrument that played bass notes. Unlike all the other artists, Shankar was given four hours to perform and also was paid for his appearance.

His performance was mesmerizing, and it seemed to induce a mass trance (no doubt aided by a particularly strong concoction of LSD tabs that were distributed throughout the weekend and referred to as Monterey Purple). The audience had never heard Hindustani Indian classical music, and it dazzled and beguiled them. It consisted of a series of songs that followed a different set of beats and rhythms that began slow and built to a crescendo of flying fingers on strings and whirling fists on drums and the steady thrum of bass lending ballast that just barely kept it all earthbound and avoided allowing the musicians, their instruments and their tunes to float up to the sky and take the audience with it. Those listening to the songs closed their eyes, rocked back and forth, swayed, moved their hands as if to try to touch the notes as they flew by, and one guy got so entranced he turned himself upside down and appeared to be riding a bicycle from a headstand position. 

As the music concluded, the crowd rose as one and gave a heroic cheer of approval, welcoming Shankar and his music to the American culture and consciousness, where it would stay and grow in influence for generations. But on that day, all that Gabby, her friends and the Monkees knew was that they felt they had experienced something unprecedented and possibly unrepeatable. She looked at Micky as the last number ended and he had a look of sublime joy that almost made her cry with tears of joy herself. She felt as a musician he must be experiencing an almost transcendent amount of pleasure that she could only imagine.

She gave Micky a hug and whispered into his ear "Micky, tell me what you're feeling right now, you look so blissed out."

He replied with a faraway look on his face, "It's like I was somewhere up in the sky looking down at everything, like the top of my head opened and my spirit just rose up and I left my body and floated up there and was looking at everyone getting so into the music and I could see everything from thousands of feet up. And somehow I felt closer to Cousin George and my father and my grandparents and my Indian ancestors and JFK and everyone else who's left the Earth but who's still with us in spirit. I mean, I'm not even stoned but I felt that far out, you know?"

"Did you get something extra out of it because you know how to play a guitar?"

"Nah, other than the fact that I know for damn sure that that guy's got more talent in one finger than I have in all my ten. It was more of a humanistic, spiritual experience. Like it shook me on a much deeper level. He speaks to people with his music. I know I'm trying to do that with my new song, but it's still a pop song when you come right down to it. But that's okay. That's my bag. I like to make people move in a different way with my music. I'm not trying to give them a religious experience. But man, I'd say that's what I just had."

"I get what you mean. I felt similar. I felt like I was soaring and in that different dimension I sometimes go to myself, kind of like I felt when I was attending your gigs before I knew you only more so. I feel like I was experiencing something history-making. In fact, I've had that feeling all weekend long. Like someday we're going to look back at this experience and say 'I was there when music took a really important turn and went in this whole other direction, and many stars were born.'" 

Micky pulled Gabby onto his lap and stroked his fingers on her cheek. "In that case, I'm so glad to be experiencing this history-making moment with you. I want to make so much more history with you. I want to live each milestone with you and have you describe it to me the way you see it."

"I feel the same way, Micky. That's why I asked you what you saw and felt. I really do feel so close to you already, but it's that extra bit of communication that makes us one."

Micky kissed Gabby as if to fuse their souls together. He squeezed her hand, his wordless signal to her that he wanted to make love to her and was anticipating the time when they would get to when they returned home. The kiss went on and on. That is, until Dawn smacked Gabby upside the head and said "Gabby, hey, did you hear me? We're going to get food. You ought to come with us. You might not get another chance to eat today. Come on you guys!" Micky and Gabby laughed and rose to their feet and followed along to the restaurant backstage.

* * *

Sunday night was the last batch of performances. Peter was all keyed up to introduce Buffalo Springfield. He and Dawn were backstage with the band, waiting for them to go on, while the rest stayed in their seats. Dawn allowed Pete to get just a little buzzed for his big moment, just to loosen up so that he wouldn't freeze up and go absolutely silent. She found it amusing and inconceivable that a guy who performed in front of hundreds of people for a living every week of his life should be this nervous. Peter explained that it wasn't typical stage fright, it was that he felt unworthy of the honor. 

"Peter, these guys are your friends, or at least Stephen is. He has known you and played with you and struggled with you on the same streets of New York since you guys were starving artists. He is acknowledging that commonality. He's saying you're as worthy as anyone else because he's not forgetting where he came from. So just you remember that. When you go on stage, remember that Stephen used to pass the basket just like you did. And that he wants to help you get to the next level and he's doing this as an act of tribute to you – not to scare the shit outta you. Okay?"

Peter swept her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, his go-to move when he wanted to express his utmost amount of affection. "Thanks for setting me straight, Dawn. You have a way of seeing things that I can't see. You're right. He's just a few steps ahead of me. Someday, I'll be giving a hand up to someone else. He's paying it forward. I think I feel okay now."

Peter was introduced by Tom Smothers as Peter Tork, a member of the Monkees, an up and coming band from Malibu, California. Peter somewhat nervously explained that he was honored to introduce the band based on longstanding personal friendships and because he liked their music. He invited the audience to "welcome with a great big fat round of applause my favorite group The Buffalo Springfield."

They launched into Stills's masterpiece of protest poetry inspired by the Sunset Strip Riots of 1966, _For What It's Worth_ , with David Crosby sitting in as a substitute for Neil Young, who wasn't present for the Festival. As he walked off the stage, Peter fell into Dawn's arms and allowed her to guide him to a chair and just settle him down and help him process that he had just been a small part of what they both sensed was history being made. Like Micky and Gabby, they had sensed that this Festival was going to have echoes throughout the present decade and maybe for generations to come in influencing the arc of music. They made their way back to the seats just in time to see the next act, which was electrifying.

After Buffalo Springfield finished, the Grateful Dead performed a psychedelic mélange of tunes that had the audience feeling very mellow. This left them unprepared for what was to follow and their senses were vulnerable and primed to be shocked. A British group not terribly well known in the U.S. began its set. The Who had mostly been Britain-based and this was their first major American concert performance. Their set was lively and original, but it was the culmination of their time onstage that was the most memorable, which ended with smoke bombs igniting behind the amplifiers, guitarist Pete Townshend smashing his guitar to death and throwing its pieces offstage, and drummer Keith Moon kicking over his drum set.

Then it was Jimi Hendrix's turn to wow the audience. He performed in a similar manner as he had the night before at the party, only on a much grander scale and with much better, customized equipment. He had custom-built amplifiers and doodads added to his guitar to produce reverb and other heretofore unheard types of sounds from his guitar, but many of the effects he produced came simply from the way he manipulated his hands and body against the guitar itself. He was a technician par excellence. He also executed gymnastics with his guitar, playing it at all different angles and with graceful flourish. His body movements were flamboyant and extremely sexualized, and at one point in his set he simulated having sex with his stack of custom made amps. He even played the guitar with his teeth. His played a mix of original tunes, and covers of standard rhythm and blues and rock 'n roll. But even the cover tunes he managed to stamp with his own brand of flamboyance and technique and make them sound fresh.

He and The Who had argued about which of them should be allowed to perform first, since both of them had a proclivity for smashing their instruments as the finale of their act. They ended up tossing a coin and Jimi lost the toss, so to make up for having to go second, he raised his destruction game by pouring lighter fluid over his guitar, setting a match to it, then getting down on his knees and playing it while it burned and then worshipping it with pelvic and hip gyrations and protruding tongue that made him look like a man possessed by the devil. A more talented and truer showman never graced the stage at the Festival and in the end, he made The Who look like pikers and got his revenge.

The final numbers were performed by The Mamas & The Papas, who were in fact the spiritual and literal parents of the Festival, and then they were joined at the end by Scott McKenzie, who wrote an ode to the Festival called _San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)_ which he performed with them. They closed it out with _Dancing In The Streets_ and that's literally how the Festival ended, with concertgoers dancing their way out of the venue and back to where they came from, to spread the message of the Festival's unofficial motto displayed on a banner hanging from the front of the stage: Music, Love and Flowers.

Wendy and Mike got permission from Stills and Crosby to use their suite to host one last listening party for those who had said they wanted to hear the Monkees' demo and hadn't had time yet. There were a few record label executives and band managers, as well as musicians looking for opening acts for their tours. It was a satisfying turnout and hopefully one of the seeds planted would take root. 

Now it was time to party. Once again, Davy volunteered to stay sober in hopes of avoiding sleeping rough, as he put it in his British vernacular, and Gabby was willing to be the other sober driver. Everyone else went hog wild, except for Micky, who, true to his word to Gabby, did not partake of drugs. He did, however, get good and drunk. 

Gabby became Micky's binky the more he drank. He nibbled, chewed and sucked on her, as if he were teething and she was a teething ring. First her fingers were in his mouth, then her knuckles, then up to her neck, then her earlobes. At one point he found something she said adorable and he just took the flat of his tongue and licked her cheek like a German shepherd. She couldn't decide whether this behavior was funny, charming, annoying or disturbing. She decided to stick with the positive vibes. She even turned the tables on Micky and licked him back or grabbed hold of his tongue and held it captive in her fingers. This snapped him out of his misbehavior and set him off into a fit of giggles, which was also funny, charming, annoying and disturbing. He was constantly squeezing her hand to remind her how much he was longing to make love to her.

Mike guided Wendy out into a dark corner of the courtyard and sat her upon his lap on a lounge chair. "Mah Miss Sweet Petite, you made this trip a huge success and we couldn'ta done it without you. I'm proud of you and I thank you. I hope your hard work has brought us closer together and closer to gettin' our heart's content."

"Me, too, Mikey. That's part of why I did it. Sure, I did it because of my own personal ambition, but also because I want you guys to succeed and I want all of us to get what we want, to get where we want to go in life."

"I love you, Wendy, with all mah heart, and despite mah stubborn, hard head. You know that, don'tcha?"

"Yeah, I do, but keep on telling me because I still need to hear it, and I always will. I love you, too and I'll keep telling you because I'm pretty stubborn also and that's why you'll need to keep being reminded. Because we're really partners now, Mike. I'm all the way in. I'm going to help you get this band across the finish line. No matter how much you squawk about it."

"I'm done squawkin' Wendy. I know what I've got in you and I know how lucky I am. I just hope the Monkees can hang on to you. I see you movin' on to bigger and better things someday. You've got wings, girl. Use 'em. Just don't leave me in the dust. I can't live without you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mike. Why do you think I'm working so hard to lift you up? So we can get where we can be together forever."

He leaned back in the chair and pulled her close to him, kissing her over and over like his life depended on it. "I'm lookin' forward to getting' home and gettin' you alone and takin' inventory of all the cute parts of your body that I finally convinced you are cute."

"Yeah, and I want to see all your gorgeous parts you finally understand are gorgeous. Did it make you feel kind of glad to know that those groupies thought you were hot? I have to admit that now that I have my own self-confidence, I was glad they thought you were hot. It kind of turned me on because I was thinking, yeah, girls, take a good look cuz he's mine, all mine!"

Mike shook his head. "Well, it was good to know I look good, but no, it was mostly pretty creepy and disgustin'. The only woman I want oglin' me and touchin' me is you. Honestly."

"Awww, Mikey, that's sweet. I'm glad you feel that way. But I do love those new tight pants." She giggled and started making out with her long, tall Texan.

Dawn had let Peter off the leash, with the exception of the rule Mike set prohibiting nothing harder than pot and her own rule of no nooky in strangers' beds. They both got thoroughly baked and were enjoying one of their favorite stoner pastimes, which was stargazing. They fetched their guide to the constellations and pulled Micky and Gabby outside with them. Micky was too far gone to be of much help, though, so they decided to start singing their favorite nursery rhymes. This led to Peter and Dawn discussing potential baby names for their future brood. 

Peter tactlessly, though innocently, asked Micky and Gabby what they were going to name their children. This sobered Micky up somewhat and he began to panic, worrying that Gabby would take offense or feel pressure or flash back on that traumatic fight they had in the bathtub in Palm Springs. Gabby didn't bat an eyelash, however, and responded "Well, we're going to name the first one Schmooshy — I picked that name — and I told Micky he can pick the second name." Micky's look of fearful dismay transformed into admiration and amusement, and he slung his arm around Gabby and kissed her forehead. Peter just looked at the two of them like they were mad, shrugged his shoulders, picked another nursery rhyme and began to sing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	62. Chapter 62

The guys and gals made it back to the hotel around dawn and caught a few hours sleep before it was time to check out of the hotel and drive home. When they got to Malibu, the girls decided they were too tired to finish the drive to L.A. and caught a nap at the Pad for a few hours. The guys decided to throw a celebratory barbecue and relax before they figured out what everyone's next move would be. A coin toss was proposed for use of the Nooky Nook, but Mike pulled rank as the band leader and also reminded them that he had yet to visit it with Wendy. After everyone had eaten and was busy digesting, the long and the short of it, as Dawn liked to put it, strolled towards the private cove with a blanket and a bottle of wine and a pair of lascivious grins.

Since Mike had vacated the premises, Micky squeezed Gabby's hand and asked her if he could make her his now. "Will you give yourself to me right now, Gabby, will you let me love on you and unleash all these feelings I've been holding in? Is it the right time, or should we wait longer? I don't want a fast fuck. I want to make love to you."

"Thank you for telling me exactly what you want, Micky. You always encourage me to do that with you. If we want it to last a long time and go on and on, then let's wait until tonight. Either you get Mike to go to my place or you can come home with me. You decide where you want to be when we make love and I'll be there with bells on."

"Can we make love on the beach in the moonlight?"

Gabby hesitated for a moment. She had already made out with Micky on the lawn in Monterey, but this was a bridge much further. "If you feel pretty sure we won't get busted, Micky, then I'm willing to try that. It sounds beautiful and exciting."

"I've got no guarantees, but I've lived on this beach for years and I've seen plenty of places that looked perfect for that setup. I say we go for it."

Gabby grinned and looked dreamy and just a little bit naughty. "Okay, I'm in." She reached for Micky's hand and squeezed it tightly, and he squeezed it back.

Everybody eventually sorted themselves out between the two dwellings. Davy stayed on the straight and narrow and slept in his own bed, and even opted for an early night. Mike and Pete went to West L.A. with Wendy and Dawn, leaving Micky and Gabby the luxury of their own room at the Pad, not that they were going to need it right away in light of their plans to be exhibitionists on the beach.

They waited until about midnight, sipping wine and listening to romantic music on the jukebox, occasionally standing up to have a twirl to a song they liked, but it would always devolve into a fierce clutching of bodies and almost dry humping and then they'd have to sit back down to stay their passion from bubbling over. Finally, they deemed it safe to head out to the beach.

Micky insisted on bringing out a few blankets because it was a bit chilly and he didn't want Gabby getting cold and losing motivation. He also brought a couple of pillows for extra comfort. He wanted only the best for their reunion.

After he had set the scene (Gabby mused that Micky would have a great backup career as a director if he ever wanted or had to abandon his music career), Micky invited her to burrow into the nest of blankets he had created for them. She clambered into his open arms and nestled into his embrace. His first priority was to express his love and affection for her, and he kissed her tenderly. Even though while they were on the road his libido was driving his actions and words, fundamentally all his desires for Gabby were grounded in being in love with her and he wanted her to understand this.

"I love you, my Gabby. Above all else, I've missed being able to fully express that."

"Thank you for not attacking me like a wild animal, Micky, and for always being tender with me, even when we're getting a bit freaky and wild and out there. You always make sure to show me that there's love and trust in the heart of it. That's why I feel so able and willing and even eager to do these things with you. You have my trust and I feel like I can give over everything else that you want because it makes me happy to do that. You always give back as good as you get. It's always equal between you and me — the love, the trust, the fun and adventure."

"Are you ready for another adventure, Gabriella? Can I lead you? Will you follow me through this fantasy of mine?"

"So you haven't done this before? I wouldn't ask except you called it a fantasy, which implies novelty. Is it just novel for you and me, or a new experience for you altogether? I don't mind either way, but it will help me to know what your mindset is, just like you like to know mine."

Micky took Gabby's head in his hands and stared deeply into her eyes. "I've never done this with any woman on this beach or any other. I've fooled around a bit at the Nooky Nook with a girlfriend, not a groupie, but that's it. All us guys have taken girls there, except I think Dawn was Pete's first there. Do you want to know anything else?"

Gabby shook her head. "No. It probably wasn't fair for me to even have asked you that much. We said we wouldn't delve into each others' pasts. I wasn't trying to figure out if I was more special to you than someone else. I just like to know when we're both doing something novel and for the first time for both of us. It feels like a celebration. I should have been more artful in the way I asked you about it. Please forgive me for putting you on the spot."

"That's okay, Gabby. I get it now. We've had this kind of conversation before, but it was said in different ways. I misinterpreted what you were asking me. But I did want you to know that you are special to me, that even when I was at my lowest and worst, I always thought this was the kind of thing I'd only want to do with someone who really mattered to me, and that when I was a total groupie guy, I never brought them here. We guys always had a rule about that. So none of this territory where you are is haunted by the ghosts of my past mistakes. It's all pristine and it's all for you." He kissed her tenderly and wrapped her in a loving embrace.

"Thanks for telling me that, Micky. That actually does make a difference to me, and I appreciate knowing that."

"I feel good about it, too, Gabby. Like I have sanctuary from the mistakes I made in the past. And I can enjoy this beautiful place I call home with the woman I love and feel good about at least some of the decisions I made when I was busy mostly screwing up and using bad judgment."

"Maybe you knew you'd need redemption and a place to flee for that sanctuary. Or maybe it's just like that old saying, 'Don't shit where you eat.'" Gabby delivered this last line with deadpan humor. She felt Micky was becoming maudlin and self-loathing and she was desperate to shift his mood. This made him crack up with laughter.

"Yeah, well, the rule really had more to do with Davy and me being considerate to Mike and Peter because they so often struck out with the girls that it wasn't fair to them for us to be intruding on their miserable privacy by bringing chicks home." He laughed at the memory of how different things used to be.

"Wow, well, it's great to see them paired off now. We just need to find a nice girl for Davy and all will be well. So now that we've got that sorted out can we do less talking and more silent communication?"

Micky gave a wolfish grin. "Silent, or wordless? Because I don't think either one of us is particularly good at being silent."

"That's true. I'm ready for you to make me moan, Micky. Do with me what you will. Whatever it is you've been thinking about all day, all weekend."

Micky began to remove her clothes and she pulled at his garments fitfully, until they were both naked. The night was a bit chilly, so they snuggled under the blankets. Micky ran his fingers over Gabby's nipples and noticed that the cool air had raised them to sharp points. A look of delight passed over his face and he leaned down to tongue them gently, enjoying their firm, pointy texture.

"Your nipples are rock hard," he observed. "Feel them," and he guided Gabby's fingers down to them. She ran the pads of her fingers lightly over them and squirmed and moaned. Micky encircled her nipples with his fingers then urged her on "Keep rubbing them, Gabby. I want to watch you touch yourself."

Gabby's fingers continued to slide smoothly over her areolas and raise bumps on them. Micky urged her on, holding them for her and whispering "Pinch them, twist them, make them stand up proud, Gabby." She did as he urged, as he held them in place for her.

Now he was licking her earlobe and whispering again in her ear. "Want me to lick them for you?" Gabby nodded her head vigorously. Micky said "If I do that, then you'll need to put your fingers where mine are now." She looked down and saw his fingers forming circles around her pink nipples. She took her hands and encircled them, giving Micky a bullseye to aim his tongue at, and he hit his mark with precision and verve. Having her fingers surround the sensitive flesh made it even more so. He suckled and stretched her nipples to stiff peaks, then ran his fingertips across their extremely sensitized surface as Gabby jerked and writhed. Then he'd be back on the spot with his soothing tongue, then stretching the flesh taut just to the edge of pain, then tickling them with his fingers and then soothing them with his tongue. He darted from side to side so that the neighboring breast got a bit of a reprieve. Gabby was on the edge of madness.

Micky pushed Gabby's breasts together and mounted himself above her belly. He slid his penis between them, creating a soft friction for his tool. As he slid between her breasts, he continued to pinch and play with her nipples. All their mutual pleasure was centered in Gabby's chest area. It was an extraordinary sight. Micky pulled away, for fear of coming prematurely. He wasn't nearly ready for his own release, and he wanted to give Gabby hers first via his stiff cock.

But suddenly, Gabby went from passive recipient of Micky's ministrations to wild woman with an insatiable appetite. As Micky tried to pull away, Gabby grabbed his butt cheeks and held him firmly in place, then captured his penis in her mouth and began to suck him. Micky cried out in surprise and leaned in, arching his back and steadying himself by bracing his hands on Gabby's thighs. As quickly as she struck though, she withdrew her mouth, knowing that Micky's director's mind had a script he was following and she didn't want to make him climax first — that clearly was not what he pictured in his fantasy and for the moment they were living in his imagination, and not what she wanted for herself either. She reflected on the difference between their role play/fantasy sex and the way Nick would just take over and dominate their lovemaking with sick fantasies that Gabby was only incidental to. She shuddered a bit, cleared her head of the haunting memory and, focusing only on the pleasant half of the contrast, gave Micky's penis one last lick and returned control of it to him with a smile.

Micky responded with a terrible Edward G. Robinson impression. "Ahh, thought you'd try to pull a fast one on the boss, nyah? Well nobody pulls a fast one on the boss, seeeee?"

Gabby responded in the voice of a very dumb Looney Tunes dog "Duh, yes boss, whatever you says, boss."

Micky gave a delighted giggle and hugged Gabby. He leaned down to whisper in her ear "Glad you don't take this too seriously. As soon as it's not fun or if you ever get scared, you need to tell me. I never want to make you feel like a bystander at a car crash like he did."

Tears sprang to Gabby's eyes and she reached for Micky to hug him fiercely. "Thank God you pay attention to what I say and have gotten to know me so well. You just read my mind again. I was contrasting you most favorably in my mind. It's all good, Micky, and all systems go. I feel like you're our movie director tonight and I'm seeing your vision through your eyes and words and prompts. Let's continue the journey."

Micky bent down and gave Gabby a soft, simple kiss, then a series of kisses, then he let himself loose on her mouth and overwhelmed her with kisses, tongue, nibbles and sucking. Her lips began to become very sensitive because by now he had a few days of whisker stubble.

"Micky, your whiskers have my lips buzzing."

"Oh yeah? Let's see what else I can get feeling the buzz."

He began to rub his face all over her neck, chest, belly and arms. Then he took his turn on the sensitive flesh on the insides of her arms and down near her pubic bone. He parted her thighs and rubbed his face on the inside, tender flesh, then started to lazily stroke her coochie with his fingers. She leaned in to his touch, but he would always move his fingers lightly away so that his touch was gentle and never firm enough for her to gain any traction. He added dabs of his tongue in the same teasing manner as she began to fidget and became more and more agitated.

"Are you getting ants in your pants, my Gabby?"

"You know damn well I am, my diabolical fantasy movie director!"

Micky laughed at her characterization of his role in the proceedings. "Now I think I've brought you to the frame of mind I was in for most of the weekend, Gabriella. Does that make you feel frustrated with me, or empathize?"

Gabby paused to contemplate this new revelation and responded, "On balance, I empathize, and I'll also add that it turns me on even more. To be able to slip into your mind and body and to know how much you were aching for me, if it's anything like what I'm feeling for you now, then I'm flattered and humbled."

Micky moved his body back up so he could put his face right in front of hers and said in his most seductive voice "I felt this and much more. So much more." He gave her one more deep, complicated kiss and said "Let's switch places, my Gabby. Why don't you direct the next scene?"

She smiled and then quick as a flash she had Micky on his back and she was sucking his dick. She wanted him at maximum hardness for what was to follow. He was in ecstasy and was making a lot of noise and she paused to say "Micky, you're turning me on to no end with your gorgeous voice, but let's not push our luck and let's try not to get busted for indecent exposure. Here's my finger. Suck it." She inserted her index finger into Micky's mouth and he gave it a fairly competent blow job while she did the same thing to his cock and balls.

Now that Micky's penis was completely slicked up with saliva, it was ready for Gabby to mount. She spread her legs wide so that Micky could watch as his penis disappeared into her as she lowered herself onto it. He murmured words of fascination and awe as it disappeared inch by inch. The air had already cooled the saliva so it felt like she was inserting a Popsicle into herself. She found the sensation novel and exhilarating and described it to Micky, who appreciated the extra insight into what she was experiencing.

Now it was Gabby who could not keep silent. She wanted to narrate her bliss for Micky. They had had to be so circumspect and discreet for so many consecutive hours and days that her natural inclination towards dirty talk and cheerleading could no longer be suppressed.

"Ohhhhh. Micky, you feel so good inside of me. Slick. Cold. Wet. Hard. I want to come, Micky. Can I come? Can I ride you and slip slide you to my bliss, Micky?"

"Yeah, Gabriella, do it, but start off very slowly. I want to see myself moving in and out of you."

So Gabby sat upon Micky and rode him that way for a while, but she wasn't getting enough contact with the right places. "Micky, I want, I need to fly. Help me come that way."

Micky knew what she meant, based on previous lovemaking sessions, and he reached for her and splayed her out level with his whole body, allowing her to clamp her legs over his and grind herself harder on him. He helped her by adding pressure with his hands on her bum and pelvis simultaneously and grinding in tandem with her. Her breathing accelerated and her moaning was his guide to her body and mind. When he knew she was close, he lifted both of them up and thrust his pelvis with all his might. She gave a tiny squeal and then chanted "Oh, Micky, oh, Micky, I'm flying, it's so good, I'm soaring above the heavens, oh it's so good, so good, so good, so good, so good." She had tears of joy streaming from her eyes.

Micky held Gabby close to his chest and ran his hands over her back and butt and shoulders and cooed to her "How about that, hmmm? You feel good, my Gabby? You feel good?"

"Hhhmmmmmm, yeeeeeesssssss. Guilty but good, but it had to be that way."

"Explain, please? I don't have my female logic translator along with me."

Gabby sat up now, moaning in ecstasy as Micky's erection poked her sensitive innards. "Mmmmmmm, that's why. Guilty that I was selfish and took my pleasure first, considering it was you who were so horny all weekend long, but it had to be this way because I wanted to have an orgasm with you inside of me and I wasn't willing to wait for you to come first and then rest and get a second wind. You're always so generous about letting me come first if that's what I want. I really appreciate that. That can't be easy for you."

Micky thrust into Gabby as she sat upon him and said "It's not a sacrifice for me to see you utterly satisfied and in total heaven. It's a major turn on. And maybe when I'm sixty it won't be easy for me to keep it up while you go to town, but for now it's a piece of cake and another total turn on. And in terms of the logistics, it's true that it's easier for me to hold an erection while you have fun than it is for me to bounce back immediately. I don't know how Peter manages that trick. I think he's a freak of nature."

Having said his peace on sexual logistics and seen that Gabby looked satisfied with his answer, Micky now sat up with Gabby still astride him and engulfed her in a series of passionate kisses as he pressed himself in and out of her while wrapping her legs around his waist. He had his hands on her hips and butt and was gyrating himself to delve deep inside her. By now, her body felt like a warm oven and she clenched her inner muscles to grip and stimulate Micky's penis even further, making him jerk and moan every time in reaction. His thrusting was now becoming like a bucking bronco, and Gabby had to hold on to his neck and shoulders to stay attached. He jerked violently and shouted and she knew he was spurting inside her, even if she couldn't actually feel it (despite the bullshit her dad's porno magazines had said). Still, the mental image excited her and she sank her mouth and tongue onto Micky's neck to encourage him to enjoy the remains of his orgasm, pausing to whisper encouragement into his ear.

"Yeah, Micky, give it all to me. I want it all." Hearing her words made him cling to her tighter and he continued to thrust and buck and pant and moan, as she smiled to herself, enjoying the reaction she had coaxed from him.

He hummed and rocked and cradled Gabby in his arms, keeping his eyes closed to eke out every other sense's perception. With a final huge exhalation of breath, he opened his eyes and gazed at her through the haze of sexual satisfaction and fulfillment of fantasy and utter bliss. But his first words were "I love you, Gabriella, with all my heart, every corner and crevice of it."

She ran her hand through his completely crazily untamed hair and smiled at him. "Micky, you have all of my heart, too. I'm ready to say it. You're my everything."

Micky's face split wide with an enormous grin and he said "You had to pick the one time to tell me that when I couldn't let out a Nesmithian yeehaw? I demand a do-over tomorrow when we're not in danger of getting busted or waking Davy up."

"How about if you just wait until we get dressed and start walking back to the house?"

Micky pouted and stuck out his bottom lip. "But wait, my fantasy isn't over. I've always wanted to camp out here under the stars. Can we do that? That's why I brought so many blankets and pillows. I wanted to make you comfortable."

Gabby's eyes alit with appreciation for Micky's imagination and consideration. Yes, he definitely could be a movie director or TV producer or have some other hand in the entertainment industry. He had vision and a way of carrying you along with him to see the pictures in his mind.

"That would be neat, Micky. I've never done that. You'd think this beach would be littered with people availing themselves of its beauty every night. Let's claim it for ourselves tonight."

Micky made a nest for them in the blankets and smoothed them after they had gotten tangled up from their lovemaking activities. He laid down and opened his arms up to her to welcome her. She settled down into the crook of his arm which he wrapped around her. She laid on her side with her knee propped up on his thigh, settling one of her breasts on his chest, and he stroked and petted it lovingly. Her free hand was buried in his curls, untangling them and curling them back up randomly. They laid in easy silence, letting their fingers communicate for them. Sleep finally claimed them but did not separate them, as they each dreamt of the other.

The sun began to rise and Micky was the first to notice. Normally the heavier sleeper of the two, this would be unusual, but as was becoming more usual when he slept with Gabby, Micky's male equipment was a persistent early alarm clock. He nestled behind Gabby and waited for her to notice his alarm clock had gone off. It only took a couple of firm nudges for her to become alerted to the situation, and she began to giggle. She reached between her legs and stroked Micky behind her as he poked his erection between them.

"This is weird. It almost feels like it's my own dick that I'm handing."

"Well there you go, Gabby, give yourself a hand job!"

She realized that some of her ineptitude had been a question of having the wrong angle. She stroked him and squeezed and thumbed the various parts of his package, and before long he was grunting and spurting between her legs. She almost felt like they were both having the orgasm.

"Whoa, Micky, that kind of blew my mind. I kind of feel like I had the orgasm with you."

Micky reached in front of her and took hold of her hand and his penis and squeezed them both and sighed "I feel like you did. We both climaxed. Like you say, we are one." He rubbed his body against her butt and she enjoyed the tickling stimulation on her cheeks. She was grateful to Micky from removing the mental barbed wire she had erected around that whole area of her skin as a defense against traumatic memories. He let his hands roam there and caress her skin carefully, lovingly.

"You have the most luscious butt, Gabby. I'm glad you don't mind letting me touch it now."

"I was just thinking how grateful I am that you've restored my trust to allow you to touch it, but it strikes me that I find it amazing that you think it's luscious. It's not small, that's for sure. When I was an adolescent, I used to wish I could just lop off a chunk of it."

Micky gasped dramatically and gave a protective squeeze to her cheeks. "That would have been a crime against humanity and good taste in the female form. You would look weird with those incredible tatas and a flat ass. Maybe other guys have a different opinion, but for me, your curves drive me to distraction. It would be like driving that motorcycle down a flat prairie road. Where's the fun and excitement in that? It's those dangerous curves that get my motor revving."

"Hmph. I guess Twiggy wouldn't make the cut then, huh?"

""No way. She looks like a thirteen-year-old boy. You're everything I want and all I'll ever need, my Gabby."

"Thanks for the affirmation, Micky, because I think you're stuck with me and I gave up trying to conform to conventional beauty standards a long time ago."

"Thank God you did! I told you I had my eye on you for weeks before I approached you. I'd watch you from my place on stage, mesmerized by your unique beauty and style. I was drawn to you because you were so _you_. I skipped over you for a while because I had to get up the nerve to approach you. I could tell you were something special, something out there. Maybe even in my subconscious I knew you weren't going to be an easy lay, that you had the power to knock me off my feet and I wasn't ready for you yet, so I stuck with the low-hanging fruit for a few more weeks before I introduced myself to you."

Gabby turned over now to face Micky with a look of incredulity and humility. "Thanks for the compliment, Micky. I have to admit I noticed you right away and then immediately struck you right off my list of possibilities. You were too good looking, too charismatic, too in demand, too everything, and I knew you were out of my league. I figured you'd never in the world ask me out because I wasn't your type — not pretty enough, not flashy enough, not easy enough. I mean, at first, I thought you were hot and would have been happy if you asked me out, but as soon as I saw you had a different girl every week, I knew that even if you picked me one week, you'd break my heart by using me up in the space of a week or a night. So I just tuned you out."

Micky had a sad look on his face and said "Shakespeare would call us star-crossed lovers. Thank God we found our way to each other against the odds."

She placed her hand on his cheek and held it there. "It was through the strength of both our characters that we built this relationship, Micky. The two of us worked to make us one."

They kissed tenderly and nuzzled closer in their nest of blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	63. Chapter 63

Micky, Gabby and Davy sat around the table eating cereal and discussed the protest planning meeting scheduled for later that afternoon.

"Guys, there's a meeting at 4 p.m. today at the Student Union. Are you still on board? You have to be there if you plan to attend the march. We're going to be discussing defensive tactics against the fuzz in the event that they provoke violence or even become proactively violent. We'll also be reviewing what everyone's legal rights are in case you get arrested."

Micky yelped "Shit, Gabby, it sounds like you guys are prepping for combat! I don't want to go all Nesmith on you, but you're making me worried about your safety."

Gabby replied coolly, "Micky, I warned you when we first got together that this was a part of my life, that this was part of the deal. This is my life's work. You said you were on board. I know you didn't realize what exactly were the details, but I told you the broad outlines. Same with me and your music career. I got a bit of a taste of it when you made the demo and then at the Festival, but I'm still on board. How about if you come to them meeting and listen to how prepared for and experienced I am with this sort of thing before you jump off the deep end with your worrying?"

Micky looked to Davy for guidance and support. Davy now spoke up and said encouragingly "Gabby's got a point, mate. She's got a lot more experience being a rabble rouser than we do being rock'n rollers. Let's go to the meeting and just hear what the plan is and then you can voice your concerns later. And don't forget, you, me and Pete will be there to look after her."

Micky sighed and conceded, "You're right. I was just going with my gut without all the facts. Gabby, you're a pro at what you do and I will respect and honor your ability and experience."

Davy reminded them "We ought to call over to your place, Gabby, to let Pete know about the meeting. Is Dawn going to be there, too?"

"I don't think so. But she's been through protests before, so she doesn't need the training, so don't worry about her either."

Davy, Peter and Micky accompanied Gabby to the meeting at UCLA at 4:00, and then they all went out to a campus café for dinner with Debbie. Davy was still on his best behavior, and resisted asking Debbie to go out with him afterwards because that would leave him with no wheels, which would probably end in him staying the night at her place, or forcing her into a compromising position of feeling like she ought to invite him to stay. So the other guys went home with Davy as a show of solidarity.

Around 8:00 p.m., the phone rang and Gabby answered it. It was Mike, sounding very agitated and even angry.

"Hi, Gabby. I'm callin' a Monkees family meetin' right now, and I'd appreciate it if we could come over to your place tonight to talk about somethin' real important."

Gabby was taken aback and had an unpleasant sensation of déjà vu and being on the receiving end of her own medicine. She knew there was only one proper answer to his question, however, and that was, "Sure, Mike, come on over. Do I need to call Lynda?"

"This is about that protest on Friday, so unless she's plannin' on attendin' it, or you think you want her input, you don't have to call her. It's up to you."

"Okay, Mike. I'll see you guys soon."

She hung up the phone and alerted Wendy and Dawn of the guys' impending arrival. She asked them whether to call Lynda and they voted yes, so she did. Lynda said she'd be over right away. She arrived only minutes before the guys did.

As the Monkees filed in the door, three of them were the picture of misery and one of them was fit to be tied with an expression of barely contained rage. Wendy hurried over to Mike to soothe him down and offered him a glass of red wine, knowing the calming effect it had on them the night they had patched up their differences over her blunder regarding taking the roadie job without consulting him. He accepted it but didn't take a sip. This was bad, Wendy was thinking to herself, though that fact was self-evident to the other girls as well.

After drinks had been distributed to everyone else, Gabby took the lead and said "Okay, Mike, the floor is yours. What do you want to discuss?"

Now Mike took a big swig of his wine and tried to gather his thoughts to the point where he could at least speak without cursing out a woman and doing dishonor to the Nesmith name and his momma.

"The guys told me they were plannin' on attendin' an anti-war protest with you and your students before our gig on Friday night. Now at first I was okay with it as long as they were willin' to leave early and make it to the gig in time. They had made it sound like it was just gonna be a bunch of speakers around dinner time and then a short march by the hotel where the President is speakin' and it would be no big deal.

"But tonight they come home and they start tellin' me about the trainin' they got about potential civil disobedience causin' a riot and defense against the cops in case they go bustin' heads, and how if that happens, then all bets are off. Now Gabby, I told you before I support your cause and I agree with your position. But I can't have three quarters of mah band — mah livelihood, our livelihood — riskin' life and limb, not to mention gettin' fired if they don't show up or can't play their instruments. Now they're mah brothers and if that were all that were at stake, I still wouldn't want them to go, but they'd be within their rights to call me a nervous nelly and tell me to piss off and mind mah own business. But I'm the leader of this band and I _am_ mindin' mah business, our business. So what I'm sayin' is, while I respect you and what you're doin', I've told the guys I won't tolerate them attendin' any part of this protest."

Gabby looked to the other girls and asked them "Do y'all mind if I speak first, since this seems to be a situation I inadvertently created?" The other girls encouraged her to go ahead and speak.

"Mike, I appreciate the way you've handled this situation. It's just the way I asked that we do things in this family, and I thank you for that. Everything you've said sounds reasonable to me." Stunned expressions graced every face in the room, particularly Mike's.

Gabby continued, "I was kind of operating on autopilot with regard to the protest, in terms of how you just have to be ready for the cops to come after you. That just comes with the territory, unfortunately, and it's better to be prepared for the worst, but it rarely is needed. I've been to a lot of rallies and marches and I've never been beaten, though I have been arrested. I just take it all in stride. It's what I do and who I am, but I can see why that would be a shock to your system. But if your guys sat through that meeting and weren't deterred, I can't really take responsibility for their decisions.

"With regard to the higher risk factor for this march, I admit that I didn't have complete information until we got to the meeting this afternoon and learned about the rumors that there are some militant fringe groups that don't want to follow the organizers' plans to make this a peaceful march. The plan is for this to be a gathering of middle-class, everyday citizens, not a bunch of hippies and rabble rousers. And the plan is for us to follow our permit, which only allows us to march past the hotel where the President is speaking, after we hold a rally in a park where there will be a bunch of folks — again, some of them middle-class, respectable, mainstream type folks — giving their views about the war. The whole point of the march is to ratchet up the heat on the President by mainstreaming the movement and bringing people from all walks of society into the fold. So I swear to you I didn't try to rope your boys into some hippie radical sit-in. And the plan is for that not to happen. Still, there are no guarantees and I respect your decision to err on the side of caution."

Mike looked stunned that he didn't have a fight on his hands. He had entered the girls' apartment expecting to have to do the verbal equivalent of wrestling a crocodile, and Gabby had already spoken her peace and accepted his decision with good grace. "Well gee, Gabby, I appreciate your bein' understandin' about the situation and acceptin' mah decision. Any of you other gals have somethin' you want to add to the discussion?"

They all shook their heads in the negative. Then Micky and Davy both spoke up at the same time.

"Oy, Mike, I'm not done with this conversation," said Davy.

"Neither am I, Mike!" shouted Micky.

"I'm first up, mate. You speak next. Now Mike, I've been taking care of meself since I was fourteen years old, and I resent you thinking you can mother me or boss me around. This is not a social event for me, and even though you don't deserve it, I'll forgive you for accusing me of wanting to go to this rally to get into Debbie's pants at some future date. You know damn well I could have already been in them if I'd 'ave wanted to but I've been trying to reform meself, so give me some damn credit. This is about me and Uncle Sam coming within a hair's breadth of becoming very closely acquainted in the jungles of Vietnam. Lynda's been telling me I need to care about something or someone other than meself. That's what this is about. What do you say, Lynda? Your bullshit meter is highly attuned when it comes to one David Thomas Jones. Do I need to attend this protest or play it safe and listen to what Daddy here says?"

Lynda had been sitting on a chair at the dining room table, just listening and blending into the background, like she was accustomed to doing. Now she knew that her next actions carried grave weight and consequences, and she felt uncharacteristically in the spotlight. She rose from her chair and strode over to Davy, who was sitting on the couch, stood behind him, put her hands on his shoulders and said "Mike, Davy's fighting for a piece of his soul here, as well as for a cause that's noble and crucial to the soul of this country. He should go to the rally and then leave in time for the gig. Of course he'll take all precautions necessary, but life happens, and the boys over there are risking a hell of a lot more for us with a hell of a lot less to gain. We owe them our support."

Mike sighed and looked down at his hands and said "Okay, that's Davy. Let's hear what you have to say, Micky."

Micky was extremely agitated and started to pace the floor. "Michael, this isn't a pissing contest about who's had a more traumatic experience with regard to the war, but I will remind you that I just lost my cousin in Vietnam, so obviously that's why I feel strongly about wanting to attend this rally. But there's another reason I want to be there, and it's important to me, maybe even more so. When I heard that there might be violence and that this march might all go to hell, I couldn't stand the thought of not being there for Gabby. I've made promises to her, and one of them was that I'd keep her safe. I have to be there for her. She's been to every one of our gigs for me to support me because I'm a mess without her standing by my side while I play. Now it's time for me to step up and be there for her."

Before Mike could speak, Gabby interjected, "But Micky, you didn't tell me any of this. I appreciate your concern and willingness to support me in this way, but I not only don't need it, I don't want it."

Micky's mouth fell open and he was absolutely stunned by her response. He took it as the ultimate rejection and slap in the face. His lower lip began to wobble and he squeaked out her name, "Gabby?" but could form no other words.

She walked over to him and sat him down on the couch, taking a seat next to him and pulling his hands into hers. "Micky, we've talked about this before. You have your job to do, and I have mine. This is my job and my life's work. I told you I was going to cause you worry and that you would have to accept that as part of the package, just as I'm going to have to accept you being on the road touring, spending long hours in recording sessions, and getting attention from groupies even though I know you don't like it either now. Remember how we talked about this? Well, I've already survived your first recording sessions and the Festival was like a mini-tour. And now you're about to go through waiting for me to come home from my first rally and march since we've been dating.

"You can't be there to watch over me for everything. I've been doing this for a long time, since way before I knew you. It's in my blood, just like the music is in yours. I have to let you be you, and you have to let me be me."

Micky frowned and stuttered "But, but, what about those times when you asked me to keep you safe? Did you not mean it, or do you just need me anymore?"

"It's true, Micky, I did ask you to keep me safe from your stalkers, but that's fallout from your profession, not mine. And you told me that you knew that when I asked you to keep me safe originally, what I really meant was to guard my heart from heartbreak, not the stalkers. And I definitely didn't say it meaning you should keep me safe from the fuzz." She smiled at him, trying to coax one back to his lips, but it didn't work.

"Well what about you coming to my gigs? You knew you were there because I couldn't function without you. Are you saying that makes me weak and you're stronger than I am? That you can face the fuzz and bodily harm and imprisonment and I can't even take a bunch of hungry chicks?"

"Come on, Micky, you know that's not what I'm saying. But let's look at the situation. What if I do get arrested despite your looking out for me? You're going to have to go play that gig without me while I wait for my newspaper to bail me out of jail. And when you become the hugely successful performer that I know you will, I'm not going to be able to be on the road with you at every performance. I've got my own life's work and mission to fulfill. In any case, this is about one night, one event of mine you can't attend and vice versa. These are much bigger issues we should talk about between the two of us privately."

Micky snorted derisively. "Ha, talk! Sounds like you've already got it all figured out where I stand and you're just getting around to clueing me in. I've got the message, Gabby. We don't need to _talk_ about anything. Your bottom line is you're a strong, independent woman with no need for a man in your life to support your life's work that's more important than mine. I'm just there for some romance and some lovin' in between your important work events. And you think I'm a weak head case who can't stand on his own two feet, who's got old-fashioned ideas about love relationships, like mutual support and maybe having a kid or two someday. But no, wait, I'm too immature to be a dad so we'll pretend your reproductive system is closed for business because I'm not ready for that kind of responsibility and probably never will be because being a rock star makes me a selfish bastard who's not entitled to have kids because I would never be around to see them grow up or to help you raise them, and then of course your work is so much more socially important than mine is that who am I to ask you to make that sacrifice for me anyway?"

Mike stood up now and loomed over Micky and yelled "That's enough, Micky! Stop your stupid mouth now before you destroy your relationship with every single person in this room and not just Gabby. I'm about to belt ya myself for that ignorant, self-pitying, immature — YES, IMMATURE! — rant you just went on."

Mike turned to face the group. "Let's put it to a vote as to whether Davy goes to the rally. Is that okay with you, Davy??"

Davy coolly looked down at his fingernails and said "You can vote all you want, but I'm going. Still, I'd like to know what kind of support I've got among the group. Go ahead."

Mike cleared his throat and asked "How many are in favor of Davy going to the rally?"

Everyone raised their hand.

"Okay, that settles it. Davy, you'll go. But please, for the love of God, rock 'n roll and mah blood pressure, show up to the gig on time and unhurt."

Micky piped up "What about me? Don't I get a vote?"

Mike gave him a look of disgust and said "No. What you get is as much time as you need with Gabby to apologize and work out your differences. You're playin' that gig. If Davy doesn't make it, we can't have you gone. That would leave us without a drummer. Now get your sorry ass off that couch and make with the I'm sorries."

But Gabby didn't wait for Micky to make his move. She went into her bedroom but left the door ajar. She was angry but mostly hurt and felt betrayed and extremely embarrassed to have had all their issues and her own insecurities laid bare for everyone to hear. She waited for Micky to approach her, remembering back to the promise they made after their first and only argument that they would never go to bed angry at each other, or would at least try to work it out, and if it couldn't be resolved before bedtime, they would sleep in their own beds that night. But Micky's knock on the door never came, and he didn't push the door open uninvited either. He either forgot about that pledge they made to each other, or he was abandoning it. Both possibilities were awful to contemplate. After a half hour had passed and he still hadn't approached her, she realized he wasn't going to and she decided to get ready for bed.

On her way to the bathroom, she spotted Mike and Wendy sitting on the couch drinking red wine and talking quietly. Normally, it would have been Wendy who sprinted over to her and sought to comfort her immediately, but Mike's legs were longer and he got there first. He wrapped Gabby in a hug and spoke to her quietly, soothingly, "Gabby, Micky's gone home with Davy. I'm sorry he didn't have the balls to stay and face what he's done and clean up his mess, but with him in this much denial about the situation, you're probably better off. At least this way he can't say anythin' else stupid and hurtful to ya."

Wendy sidled up to Gabby and stroked her sleek hair, catching the tears that began to fall. "It will be okay, Gabbileh. Micky's just got some thinking to do, some growing up to do, and a whole lot of apologizing to do. That might be a heavy load for him or anyone, but he's a good egg and my money's on him doing the right thing after a good night's sleep."

Gabby thanked them for their support and went to bed, falling into a surprisingly deep sleep. Trauma always seemed to have that effect on her these days. It had become reflex ever since her darkest days with Nick. When she woke up the next morning, it took her a few moments to remember why she felt so hung over and washed out. She had cried herself to sleep because Micky, her Micky, her most beloved Micky, had said cruel, mean, unfair, wildly inaccurate things about her, to her and all her friends and his friends. He had shamed her, humiliated her, made her feel guilty for stuff she didn't own, and traumatized her. That all hit too close to the bone and nerves that she had spent many months on her own and this glorious couple of months with Micky healing. She felt exposed and vulnerable, like a layer of skin had been flayed off, which left her in excruciating pain and liable to catch any number of ancillary illnesses, like depression, anxiety, desire to self-harm or madness.

She knew the cure and the balm for this condition she was suffering would not be found where she had hoped it would last night. She was not going to mope around waiting for Micky to get around to apologizing or at least open a dialogue with her. She had things to do that would keep her mind occupied and remind her of her own self-worth and mission in life. She got dressed and went to the office to work on her story about the Festival, and to prep for the story she would write on the protest. As she left the house, she passed the phone and didn't bother to look at it not ringing. She had a feeling it was going to stay silent for a while, maybe forever. For now, she was numb to that possibility. She was just going to do what was in front of her and keep it in the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	64. Chapter 64

Gabby's phone stayed silent the rest of the week, save for calls from Davy to arrange to meet on Thursday for the last prep meeting for the rally and march and then another call on Friday morning to confirm their plans for Friday night. When she saw Davy on Thursday, they didn't discuss Micky at all. They just got on with their business and focused on the serious purpose of the gathering, which was to discuss the confirmation of rumors that another group at UCLA, a branch of Students for a Democratic Society, were going to try to stage a sit-in, in direct contravention of the permit granted to the Peace Action Council and the Student Mobilization Committee, with which Gabby's group was aligned. PAC and SMC were determined to abide by the strictures of the permit and stage a peaceful protest, and the fear was twofold: one, that if these fringe groups staged civil disobedience actions that violated the permit it would undercut the group's message and credibility, but even more crucially, it could incite the police to violence. Just in the last couple of days the city had tried to enjoin the march from happening at all and PAC had had to negotiate furiously just to keep the event on track. So tensions were high and it wasn't difficult to stay focused on the task at hand and shove her upsetting thoughts about Micky to the back of her conscious mind. She didn't want to put Davy on the spot anyway by turning him into an agony aunt and discussing her love life problems with him.

On Friday, though, when Davy and Gabby met up at the UCLA offices for a pre-rally conference, Davy brought up the topic of Micky. 

"Gabby, you still haven't heard from Micky, have you?"

Startled that Davy would voluntarily wade into the minefield, Gabby replied casually, "Nope, I haven't."

He muttered under his breath "What a pillock." He put his hand on her arm and said "Don't give up on him, Gabby. He's angry, but mostly he's angry at himself. He knows he blew it and he doesn't know how to build a bridge back to you. He thinks it's too late, that he went too far, and then that makes him go back and rationalize everything he said as having been justified. He hates himself and he can't hate you, but he can't accept the truth of what you said either. So he's stuck in this dead end circle of logic that makes no sense and he just keeps butting his head against it over and over, where neither of you can be wrong about how you feel."

Gabby decided to let her hair down since Davy had invited her to. "Except he's working with imperfect information. He thinks he knows how I feel but he doesn't. He's telling himself one thing and I said something else. What he heard and what I said don't match up. But I'll tell you what, Davy, what I heard him say and what he'd been telling me all along sure the hell don't match up either, so either he's been lying to me all along or he's changed his mind again and pulled the rug out from under me again about what he wants from me, which is why we almost broke up in Palm Springs. He swore to me he was telling me the truth about what he felt about certain things and expectations, which I'll do you the courtesy that Micky didn't not to blab about. And he also promised me that if we ever had another blowout disagreement like that one in Palm Springs, we'd talk it out before bedtime, or at least try to, but he left, Davy. He fucking left with you without even talking to me, even though Mike told him you guys would wait. We agreed in Palm Springs that if we couldn't settle our differences before bed, we could sleep in our own beds, so there's no excuse for him just up and leaving."

"Yeah, well, I know that I'm not one to talk, but I personally think our friend Micky has some growing up to do."

"I agree. I told him that we _both_ have growing up to do, which is at least part of why I haven't agreed to start pumping out babies. Shit. Sorry. I said I wouldn't talk about that. Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I know Dawn and Peter are engaged and Mike and Wendy are as good as there, too, but Micky and I, well, we've both got work to do on ourselves, and I think what happened last night is as clear a testament to that as sunrise. But how can I even think about a future with him if he could hurt me in such a casual way, like it was just waiting on the tip of his tongue to come out of his mouth? Not to mention the fact that the first thing I thought about was that he was treating me an awful lot like the way Nick did, though maybe that's just my automatic defense mechanism to think every guy wants to hurt me. 

"Anyway, we spent the night before and that morning making glorious love and I said words of commitment to him that I had never said to him before, so if he can turn on a dime like that, how mature or stable can he possibly be? Maybe he's projecting his own insecurities on me — I never thought any of those horrible things about him — but maybe some of them are well founded or at least maybe that's what he thinks about himself. In any case, he told me I ought to go see a shrink to get over my issues with Nick. I think he ought to clean house for himself, too, before he brings the hammer down on me and accuses me of all sorts of terrible things I never said or thought or felt, particularly not in front of the whole family. So that's where I'm at."

Davy nodded solemnly. "So would you be willing to listen to him at this point if he approached you?"

Gabby's face turned to stone. "Davy, I'm really hoping Micky didn't ask you to ask me that. If he hasn't got the balls to just approach me, after all the love and unconditional support I've shown him despite having every reason in the world to resist committing to a relationship with him, then he can just sit at home at the Pad and wonder for the rest of his life if he made a mistake by not coming to talk to me on his own initiative. So no, I'm not answering that question. This isn't junior high school. I thought we were playing for keeps. If you want to do him a solid, tell him to grow a pair."

Davy smiled and chucked Gabby under the chin. "You're all woman, Gabby, but you've got a mouth like a sailor. Kind of makes me wish I'd fought Micky a little harder for you when we were divvying up the girls that night he picked you out."

Gabby made a gagging motion and said "Davy, you're not doing your mate any favors by reminding me of the reason why I turned him down in the first place and why maybe I should have left him by the side of the road to spare myself the heartache he's causing me now."

"Just don't give up on him yet, Gabby. You haven't written me off as irredeemable, so you can't possibly throw Micky on the scrap heap yet."

"Hmph. Seems like that's where I'm sitting, on the scrap heap. I'm the one whose phone isn't ringing. I'm the one who got called terrible names and accused of monstrous things that are still hanging in the air in my living room. But I'm fine, Davy. I'm getting on with my life. And that's how I'm going to deal with this the right way this time, not like how it went with Nick. I'm going to stay pink and healthy, and I haven't forgotten that it's Micky who helped me get that way. Just like how you and Lynda moved on. You taught me a lot about character with the way you handled that. You really did."

Tears sprang to Davy's eyes and he took a sharp intake of breath. He gave Gabby a hug and whispered "Thank you for telling me that, Gabby. And thank you for 'aving faith in me when I lost faith in meself."

She gave him a fierce hug back and said "You bet, Davy. And thanks for going to bat for Micky, but if the whole point of this rift between us is that he thinks he's more mature than I think he is (which wasn't true when he said it but now I'm starting to wonder), he ought to man up and act like he's mature and take responsibility for his words and actions."

"Okay, I'm off. I'll see you at rally at Cheviot Hills Park. What time do you want me there?" asked Davy.

"Well, the rally doesn't start until 6, but as protest monitors, Debbie and I need to be there at 5:30, so come when you want. The speeches will go on until 7:30, so that will give you time to hear some of them and then get to your gig. Muhammad Ali is one of the speakers, so hopefully you won't have to leave before you hear him."

"Okay, I'm picking Dawn up and she's going to stick with me. She's decided she's not up for the march and wants to just go to the club with me after the speeches. Probably nothing to do with Peter begging her to think of the safety and well-being of their unborn future babies and bursting into tears." Davy rolled his eyes and gave a sardonic grin.

"When did this go down?"

"After you went into your bedroom after Micky's epic meltdown. Might explain why Micky didn't come apologize to you. He saw Pete getting the reaction from Dawn he couldn't get from you. It just highlighted the contrast between you two chicks and the divide between the two relationship dynamics. It made Micky's snit go into overdrive and helped him rationalize his nonsense, at least in that moment."

Gabby sighed. "Sometimes my gals cause me more trouble than they're worth, I tell ya."

Davy gave her a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder but said "Listen, don't take it to Dawn. It's not her fault that Micky grabbed a tiger by her tail and can't figure out what to do with her."

Gabby rolled her eyes and said "Don't try to sweet talk me, Jonesy. Dawn can handle my wrath. She dishes it out plenty strong herself. But I'm not gonna hassle her. The fact is all along Micky and I have run into trouble comparing ourselves to the others. That's part of our problem. He sees them wanting things and then he wants them even though he's not really sure or even halfway sure he wants them. Ugh! Okay I'm done talking about this. 

"One more tip, Davy. Don't park anywhere within half a mile of the park. Just in case trouble starts, they sometimes cordon off the area, I want you to be able to get to your car and make a quick getaway."

Davy gulped and looked worried. "Gabby, if shit goes down, I'm not going to leave you there."

Gabby crossed her arms and gave him a stern look that said "Don't argue with me and don't patronize me," without her having to verbalize it. Aloud she said "Listen, Davy. I risked my whole future with the man I love to tell him that I don't need his protection and that your band takes priority. Do you have amnesia or are you just a simpleton and need things explained to you extra carefully in shorter words?"

Davy grinned and looked abashed and said "Righto, well, I did leave school at fourteen, but I'm a clever lad, I get the picture. See you later, Gabby."

She smiled and winked at him and said "You're a bright boy, Jonesy. See if you can explain it to your curly haired friend."

* * *

Davy came rushing in to the club out of breath and made a beeline for Mike. Expecting an apology for his tardiness, Mike loomed over Davy with his hands on his hips and said "Well, what do ya have to say to me, Davy?"

Davy took Mike by the elbow and frantically pulled him aside, whispering in his ear "You need to hear what I have to say, but we have to talk in private without Micky twigging that it has to do with the march. Go find Wendy right now and take her in the dressing room real conspicuously like you want a little nooky before the show so Micky won't realize what we're up to. I'll be there in a minute."

Mike looked at Davy like he had a screw loose, but he did as he requested. He found Wendy near the stage, looped his arms around her and said loudly "Hey, lil' girl, I need me some sugar before we start the show. How about a quickie?" and dragged her back to the dressing room, dazed and skipping to try to keep up with his long strides. When they got there, he did kiss her but then explained the lunatic conversation he had with Davy and her face fell in disappointment. "Sorry, darlin'. I owe you one."

"You damn well do, Nesmith. Your ass is mine after the first set, so you better be nekkid and waiting on that couch for me with a big old smile on your face if you want to keep the peace!" They engaged in a staring contest for a few seconds before they both broke up into bawdy laughter. Davy strode in just then and slammed the door shut.

Wendy barked "Okay, Davy, what is the reason for this _coitus interruptus_?"

"Sorry about that, Wendy. Listen, I wanted you two to know what went down after the rally, but even more importantly, we need to come up with a plan to keep Micky from talking to or hearing any patrons who may be talking about the march. There was violence even before the march got properly started. There was a dust up with the cops over the use of a sound truck with speakers to direct the marchers. They claimed it violated the terms of the permit. But instead of just stopping the truck, they started pulling people off the truck and out of it and beating the hell out of them with night sticks and billy clubs. And anyone from the crowd who tried to help those people got beaten too, and then the fuzz just went feral and started beating bystanders randomly for no reason at all."

Mike and Wendy were both aghast. 

"So the march has been cancelled? Why isn't Gabby with you?" Wendy asked.

"No, the march is still 'appening! I saw her at the head of it, leading the way. This happened behind her after she was already underway. She's walking into a trap. It's a killing field. The cops are lying in wait to beat the hell out of the marchers. I'm guessing they aren't even going to wait for violations to start a beat down."

"And you left her there, Davy? You son of a bitch!" Wendy shrieked and made to scratch his eyes out.

Mike restrained her from behind. "Wendy, darlin'. It's not Davy's fault. It's mine. I told him he had to make it to the gig no matter what."

Davy shook his head and reached out to Wendy to try to soothe her. "Wendy, luv, it's nobody's fault. I specifically had a conversation with Gabby right before the rally and told her I wasn't going to leave her if shit went down and this is what she said to me: 'I risked my whole future with the man I love to tell him that I don't need his protection and that your band takes priority.' Then she asked me if I was a simpleton and did I need her to use shorter, easier words to understand what she was telling me."

Wendy's frantic, angry look melted into a half smile. "Yeah, that's Gabby for you. And she calls _me_ the maverick!"

Davy resumed his strategy session. "Here's what I suggest we do. Wendy, you go find Robert and clue him in on what's happening. Tell him to stick to Micky like white on rice during the break and after the show and don't let Micky talk to any patrons or overhear anyone who might have been at the rally or protest. Maybe put Lynda in the picture, too, so he doesn't get suspicious. Between the two of them, that will keep him busy. And under no circumstances should he be allowed to talk to me or Dawn either, so Mike, you'll need to run interference onstage. He wanted me to talk to Gabby about him, kinda plead his case, so he's going to want to know how that conversation went, and that will only lead to questions about the rally, and either way he's gonna get all worked up."

Wendy pried "I take it the conversation with her about Micky didn't go well?"

Davy shrugged. "Actually, it just didn't go because she wants Micky to man up and speak for 'imself, but from what she did say about it, I got the impression that he's still got a chance to save the relationship if he grows a pair, as she said, and grows up, as she also said. She's also doing her best to give him the benefit of the doubt and not compare what he did to how Nick mistreated her, though she definitely spotted some parallels, so he's got some heavy lifting to do."

Mike was all business now. "Right. We definitely can't have him talking to you or Dawn during the gig. Wendy, can you take care of things on your end?"

"Yeah, and I'll even take a rain check on that date we made for after the first set so that you and I can play Momma and Papa Bear and make sure there are no screwups. But you will be doing extra reps tonight after the show, Nesmith."

"Yes, ma'am." He grinned and gave her that wink that always turned her legs to rubber.

" _After_ we make sure Gabby's home safe and sound," Wendy reminded him.

Reality came crashing in on all of them again and they resumed the grim looks on their faces for a moment, then Wendy said "Okay, boys, plaster some smiles on for Micky, our resident tough guy who thinks he doesn't need Gabby's support after all." She snorted derisively, squared her shoulders and led the way out of the dressing room.

* * *

Davy was frantic and on his last nerve. He had spent the whole night dodging Micky, who clearly wanted to get the lowdown about whether he had spoken to Gabby about his prospects for a reconciliation. After the equipment was stowed in the car, Davy pulled Lynda aside and asked her desperately for a favor.

"Lynda, I'd never ask you if it weren't for the greater good, but I'm honestly in a bind and I need a favor. I can't go home tonight. I have to stay away from Micky. Gabby still hasn't shown up and the march should have been over hours ago. He's been trying to speak to me all night. He's going to want to hear chapter and verse about what I saw at the rally. And on top of that, he set me the task of talking to Gabby before the rally today to get a sense of just how pissed off at him she is and whether she'd be open to trying to work things out with him. So either way, I don't have good news for him and he's such a tender flower and I've got to protect him."

Lynda wasn't really seeing where all this was leading, but she did take a moment to praise Davy for his change in attitude towards Micky. "So what's the favor, Davy?"

"Can I stay at your place tonight, or at Robert's place, or borrow the key to your place, or sleep on somebody's couch, or chair? You know I did that in Monterey? I had to sleep on a bloody chair in some rock star's hotel room one night when we got stranded at a party?"

Lynda giggled, trying to picture fussy, selfish, hedonistic Davy settling for anything less than total comfort. And now, here he was, humbling himself and asking to be given whatever crumb of comfort and consideration she deigned to offer him.

"You come with me and Robert. His roommate is out of town this weekend and you can borrow his pajamas and be comfortable in a bed. Okay?"

"Ta, Lynda. Let me hang back here with Robert so that I can avoid Micky. Can you go tell Mike what's up, then say kind of loud that you're fixing me up with a friend of Robert's and we're all going out tonight? That should throw Micky off the scent. He'll assume I'm in good hands with you two, because I am." He gazed at her with fond regard, which she returned. She smiled and walked over to Robert, whispered something to him and he came to stand with Davy. Then she went over to the rest of the group, exchanged a few words with Mike privately, explained more audibly to the group her and Robert's plans to fix Davy up, and waved goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	65. Chapter 65

Nobody slept well that night, but of the nine of them, Micky slept the best because he was only dealing with his usual level of misery that he had been contending with since Tuesday, since he detonated his relationship with Gabby and left it lying in ruins and fragments on her living room floor and then fled the scene of the crime without attempting to make amends. Everyone else knew that with every passing moment, the likelihood that Gabby was either in jail or in a hospital or even injured and lying somewhere in an open field unattended was growing greater. Mike and Peter and their gals decided to sleep at the Pad to keep an eye on Micky. Fortunately, Micky was in such a fog these days that it didn't occur to him that it was odd that Wendy wouldn't opt for privacy with Mike at her own apartment.

The call came shortly after dawn. Even though Peter's bedroom was on the ground floor and thus closer to the phone, Wendy bounded out of bed and tore down the stairs and reached the phone before Peter had one leg out his door.

"Hello. Yes, it's me, Gabby, where are you? How are you?"

By now Mike had bounded down the stairs and Peter and Dawn were gathered around, as Wendy held the receiver askew from her head so that they all could hear what Gabby was saying.

"Wendileh, I'm at UCLA Hospital Emergency Room. I think it might be the intensive care unit. I'm not sure. I have a concussion. I'm not thinking too good right now. I hurt real bad. All over. Will you come find me?"

"Yes, of course. What about Debbie?"

Gabby began to weep tears of the bereft mourner. "I don't know, Wendy. We were trying to stop the cops from beating a pregnant lady and they turned on us and started beating Debbie. I tried to save her but they pushed me and beat me and I got swept up in a crowd of people they pushed down a big embankment and I lost her. I was trying to save other people on my way down the hill. Women, children, babies, old men, kids being torn from their parents..." She started to shriek and wail.

Wendy covered her mouth, passed the phone to Dawn and ran to the bathroom. The sound of retching echoed through the Pad, which finally awakened Micky. He came out onto the balcony landing outside his room and saw everyone gathered around the phone and mumbled "Hey."

Then he saw everyone's faces and heard Wendy throw up again and now he shouted "HEY!!!! What's happening here? What are you all doing? Who's on that phone?"

He slid down the bannister and suddenly he knew. He knew who was on that phone. He snatched at the receiver but Mike tried to keep it from him. "Now, Micky, I don't think that's such a good idea, neither one of you is in a fit state right now — "

Micky shoved Mike out of the way and wrenched the phone from him and yelled "Give me that fucking phone, Mike or I'll flatten your ass. She's mine if she'll still have me and I have to know if she'll let me help her now."

He spoke into the receiver as calmly as he could. "Gabby, it's Micky. You're going to be okay. Can you hear the words I'm saying? Are you in your body, or are you floating out there somewhere?"

"Micky?" Her voice was small and tenuous and frightened.

"Where are you right now, Gabriella?"

"Emergency room?"

"Are you in the bed or are you floating over it?"

"Floating."

"What are you feeling?"

"Scared. Small. Helpless. Ashamed."

Micky frowned and probed further. "I get why you feel those first three things, but why ashamed? I would think you would feel proud. I'm real proud of you."

"Ashamed. I didn't save Debbie from the cops beating her. I didn't save so many people from being attacked by the fuzz. And I'm ashamed of what my country did to us for just trying to speak up. And now that I'm talking to you I'm ashamed because you're going to tell me I should have let you come to the rally to protect me, that I can't take care of myself, and that I ruined our relationship for nothing but ego and pride."

"No, Gabby. No. None of that is true."

"Goodbye, Micky. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sssss..."

The phone went dead and the dial tone hummed.

"Jeezuz fuck! We've got to get to Gabby right away! I think she just passed out talking to me!"

Mike stepped forward and said "Now, Micky, I told you it probably wasn't gonna be a good idea for you to talk to her."

Micky rounded on Mike and his fist came within inches of his face. He spoke to him in a menacing, hushed voice. "Mike, I've never punched you in all the time I've known you, but I'm getting a really itchy fist. If you talk to me in that patronizing tone of voice one more time, I'm going to let you have it. Don't think it has escaped my attention that you guys were tiptoeing around me last night. I knew something was up. Now I know and what it was about. You knew Gabby was in trouble and you did nothing to save her or go looking for her. And you treated me like a child who needed to be sheltered from the reality of the situation and kept me occupied all night so I couldn't find out anything about the protest from Davy or the people at the club. You all think I'm an infantile head case. Just like I accused Gabby of. But she never treated me like this. All she ever asked me was to be allowed to live her life and stand on her own two feet. You guys act like I'm your five-year-old kid you need to keep from finding out that there's no Santa Claus.

"Now I am going to that fucking emergency room to comfort my woman and best friend. I'm the only one in this room who even knew that she's having a psychotic break right now and how to deal with it, so don't tell me I need to sit home with a lollipop and watch cartoons while the grownups deal with the situation. So you can come with me or not. Who is with me?"

Wendy staggered from the bathroom and commented "Put your dick swords away, guys. Let's just get dressed and drive over there. Dawn, can you please call Davy, Lynda and Robert? They're at Robert's. The number is in my address book in my purse. Nesmith, you better use your toothbrush first because after I use it to wash the barf out of my mouth, you're gonna need a new one."

Mike's shoulders reached his ears and he grimaced with disgust and ran to claim dibs one last time on his old faithful friend.

* * *

Micky brushed Mike out of the way, grabbed the keys from him and took the wheel of the Monkeemobile. They started their inquiries at the emergency room, but it turned out that Gabby's hazy estimation of her location was correct and she was in fact in the intensive care unit. Because none of them was a relative, the staff were unwilling to allow them in to see her because it was too early for visitors, until Micky fibbed and claimed to be her fiancé and was allowed to enter her room.

When he saw Gabby lying in the hospital bed, he had to stifle a gasp. She had shiners on both eyes, and bruising on her cheeks and neck, as well as bandaging around her head. She clearly had taken the brunt of some officer's billy club to her head with no means to defend herself, as Micky noticed that her arms were unmarked. He hoped at least that she had been rendered unconscious quickly as they beat her. Those hopes were dashed as he saw she had some sort of dressing or brace around her torso, bandages and scratches on her legs, and a splint on one of her fingers.

She was sleeping, or unconscious, and was hooked up to the usual artillery of hospital equipment like an IV drip and a machine that monitored her vital signs. A nurse came in and he asked for a summary of her diagnosis and prognosis. She said Gabby had a concussion and was being monitored for swelling of the brain. She had several bruised ribs and bruised kidneys, a broken finger, as well as minor contusions on her legs and various other places from being thrown to the ground, kicked, punched, beaten with billy clubs and falling down the embankment after being forced over the side by police officers.

Gabby's account when she was admitted was that she had been attacked by numerous officers at various stages during her attempt to escape the march once the officers incited a riot and attacked the protestors. In other words, her injuries were cumulative, not rendered all at once or by one rogue officer or batch of officers. She had been beaten numerous times by various cops in separate locations along the route. It was a sustained, prolonged attack.

It was the worst case scenario. She'd seen and sustained more violence than the average protestor because she was a protest monitor and she'd stayed at her post until she lost consciousness. Apparently some good Samaritans who themselves were gravely injured and were on their way to the hospital scooped Gabby up and took her with them. Far from being of any help or facilitators of public safety, the cops had laughed at the injured protestors who approached them and asked them to help get Gabby medical attention. They saw her protest monitor T-shirt and said she got what she deserved. In the end, they had to flag down a passing stranger's vehicle and convince him to drive them to the hospital.

Micky kept vigil at Gabby's beside until visiting hours permitted one of the others to enter the room. Then he stepped outside the room but hovered just near the door in case she woke up. Over the course of a couple of hours, the Monkees family cycled through sitting with Gabby, but Micky would not leave, so the nurses gave him permission to remain in the room while one other person visited. Lunchtime rolled around and Micky refused food, though he accepted a cup of coffee. By early afternoon, he ate something just to get Wendy off his back. She patted his shoulder as he took a bite of a doughnut.

The summer solstice had just passed, so it was still light out as Micky stared out the window at 8:30 p.m. He heard a rustle of the sheets and looked over to see Gabby stirring. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Flying."

Micky shook off his lethargy and focused his attention and tried to make out what she had said. "What's that, Gabby?"

"Flying."

"You're flying? Do you mean you're floating? Like you're not in your body?"

"No, I'm here. I was dreaming."

Micky wasn't sure, but he felt like he knew what she was telling him, but it seemed wildly inappropriate and totally a non sequitur considering her state of physical misery and the emotional distance between them. He decided to play possum and let her tell him what she meant.

"Do you want to tell me about your dream, my Gabby?"

"Only if I'm still yours."

"You've always been my everything, Gabby, even when I've had my head up my ass. The real questions here are whether you want to be mine and whether you'll allow me to be yours. I'm the one who owes the amends, the apologies, the explanations, and has to do the work. To figure out why I did it, whether I'd ever do it again, and how to make sure it never does happen again. Every reservation you've ever had about me has been justified, and I proved them correct all over again. You can trust your instincts and you know your own mind. I've got a lot of work to do, a lot to figure out, and a lot of growing up to do. There's only one thing I know for sure. You're my everything and I'm not the person I know I can and want to be without you in my life. After the pain, confusion and humiliation I caused you, I wouldn't be surprised if you told me I didn't add the same value to your life. If I've lost you, Gabby, if I can't be your everything, I'll have earned that fate. But no matter what, you're still my best friend and whatever I can do to make your life better, I'll do it. If that means leaving you alone, I'll do that. But if I can stay in your life, like the way Davy and Lynda have, I'd really like that. So if your dream is about what I think it is, maybe you should tell what it means to you."

"You already know. I was dreaming about the last happy memory I have, before it all went to hell. Making love. I was flying. You helped me fly."

"Yes. You cried, but you were happy."

"I cried happy tears that night. How come I was crying bitter tears the next night, Micky? How did it all happen that fast? How could you turn on me like that, think and say such ungenerous things about me, a day after the first time I told you that you were my everything? I didn't move a step or even a millimeter away from you in that passage of time. And I didn't feel you moving away from me either. So something must have been inside your head bubbling away in the background the whole time I thought we were becoming stronger and closer that finally got triggered and you couldn't keep it hidden anymore. That had to be the real you, didn't it? Not this sweet, caring guy who accepts me for who I am and knows me so well and supports me and isn't trying to force me to do things I don't believe in. Because if that's who you really are, Micky, you may as well just fuck me up the ass like Nick did and be done with it."

All the air left Micky's lungs. He was flabbergasted by the brutality of her final statement, but he knew it to be righteous and just. He had a decision to make. Stand and fight? Cut and run? Slink away? Leave her in peace? Beg and plead? Deny and rationalize? Accept censure and debase himself? What combination would work? And for whom would it work? Whose happiness did he care about more? What was the point of doing something to make her happy if it bred festering resentment in him? He realized that was the question she was asking him now. Why had he held on to the bones of contention he said he'd let go of after they quarreled in Palm Springs? Were they intrinsically importantly to him, or was it just the fact that he had had to relinquish them that was causing him resentment? Now he was making progress.

What had been the trigger? Another situation where he was being told "What you want does not rule my life nor affect my plans." He had expressed his love and care for her by wanting to protect her at the march, she rejected his offer and he interpreted it as a rejection of his love. He wanted to put his life on the line for her, not just make love to her, and she said no. He had wanted to reciprocate the moral support she had given him by attending his gigs, a scary experience for him, and he mistakenly thought that she would find his presence equally comforting at the march, something that he viewed as a scary experience but which to her was just another day at the office. He felt rejected and emasculated and what's more, it happened in front of the whole group, so he was humiliated as well. So he had dredged up old grievances because they were easy to bring to mind. He realized he wasn't still stewing about having kids. He felt at peace with the truce they had called on the issue, and now more than ever he realized how ill-equipped they both were to be parents.

"Gabby, can I tell you what's just been running through my mind after processing what you just said? I'm not going to try to convince you of anything, and I'm not trying to excuse what I did or rationalize it. I owe you a big fat apology, and I do apologize most humbly and sincerely, and I hope you'll allow me to make amends. But I think I've figured out why I did what I did and said what I said, and since that's the question you just put to me, I'd like the opportunity to try to answer it. You don't have to say anything. You're tired and injured and in the hospital. I'm just going to answer your questions to the best of my ability. Is that okay with you?"

Gabby nodded her head and said "I want to hear what you have to say, Micky. My schedule is fairly wide open, so go ahead."

He smiled and took her feint at humor as a good omen. Then he reiterated the entire analysis he had just quickly performed as he had listened to her talk and ask him those questions, punctuated with her devastating metaphor between the way he had betrayed her and Nick's violation of her unwilling body. As he spoke, she nodded her head as if what he was saying either rang a bell with her or made some sort of sense, whether she accepted the logic or not.

When Micky had finished summarizing his thoughts, she took a minute to gather her own thoughts and then said simply, "So what it boils down to is you're an immature chauvinist who's not used to dating a strong-willed, independent, fierce, kickass working woman who would prefer to remain barren and fight her own battles, and you felt a tad threatened by that and just had a hissy fit and reached for the low-hanging fruit that you had already let go of in one of your more enlightened moments when I was able to get you to see things clearly?"

Micky blinked a few times and couldn't think of anything else to say except "Uhm, well, yeah, I guess that pretty much covers it. You really nailed it."

"I see. Okay, that computes. Do you plan on making a habit of this, Micky? Because, you know, one of the reasons why guys say women can't be President of the United States is because once a month when they're on the rag they're all hormonal and lose all sense of good judgment and might destroy the world. That's pretty much what you did to us. I gave you a mulligan on the first time you went _loco_ because we had never discussed those issues before and because of the dead cousin bit, but this is going to become problematic if you pop off at me every month. Do you think you can find a way of raising these issues with me in a more tactful, loving and private way if you feel the need to revisit them? And I know we agreed that we _could_ revisit them, but can we not do it on a monthly basis? It's going to be exhausting if I have to deal with your period as well as my own."

She was grinning at him now, so pleased was she to be able to diffuse the situation by busting his chops and giving him his favorite out — the coping mechanism of humor. He scooted his chair closer to her and said "I'm agreeable to your terms, Mr. Spock. As usual, you're way more logical than I am. I only have one question for you for clarification."

Gabby looked down her nose and wrinkled her eyebrows attempting to look like a stern, wise owl. "Yassss?"

"Does this mean you're going to tell me about your dream?"

"Am I your Gabriella?

"You're my Gabriella, and you're my everything."

"And you're my Micky, and you're my everything."

"So you were flying, huh? Where were we?"

"On the ledge at the cliffs in Palos Verdes, in my secret spot."

Micky jerked his head back in surprise. "Whoa! You think there's enough room for that there?" He got a dreamy look in his eyes.

Gabby smiled and said "You _do_ like it spicy, don't you? That might be a little too dangerous, but I wouldn't mind taking you there for a little getting reacquainted session."

Micky reached for Gabby and very gently touched his palm to her cheek. "Get better soon, my Gabby. Not just for that. I know you don't want me just for that. We've got a lot of living to do, a lot more memories to make. You know what our next big one's gonna be?"

Gabby closed her eyes and started to lose focus, weary from the energy it had taken to knit up the threads of the greatest loving relationship of her life.

"Tell me, my Micky."

"I'm going to finish fixing up the motorcycle. So you get better and when you're ready we'll take a ride down some curvy roads, just like the lines of your figure — exciting, enticing, challenging, memorable, exhilarating and unrepeatable."

"Sounds like heaven. Just don't let me fall, Micky. See, I still do need you to take care of me. I always will. Just pay attention to what I ask for. There are plenty of things in my garden for you to nurture. Don't worry. I'll keep you plenty busy looking after me."

"That will make me very happy, Gabby."

"If it will make you happy, I'll wake up every night at 3 a.m. and cry and scream in your ear and ask you to feed me."

"Nah, that's okay."

"Will you come see me again tomorrow?"

"Of course. I told them I'm your fiancé. I've got a reputation to uphold now."

"Good. Keep it up and maybe someday we'll make that title official."

"Aren't I supposed to ask you to marry me?"

"I think in light of your extreme sensitivity to our gender roles and our unique similarities as sensitive hothouse plants, we should probably ask each other, in order to avoid car crashes like the one we just had. But if you want, once we decide we want to get married, you can surprise me with a proposal. But I get to pick out my own damn ring. I'm not spending my life with some overpriced ugly thing you picked out because that's what all the other rockers' wives are wearing."

She opened one eye, smiled at him, puckered her lips for a kiss, which he bestowed, and then she settled down to sleep. He sat there for a few moments more, just gazing at his future. Then instead of leaving, he took up a pad of paper and a pencil and scribbled down the lyrics to a song he had been mulling over since their blowup on Tuesday. When he was finished, he tucked the pad into bed with Gabby for her to find when she awoke. The song wasn't a proposal, but it was a down payment on the promises he had just made her there in her hospital room, and this time, he wanted her to have them in writing.

_I'll Spend My Life With You_

_(The Monkees)_

_People come and people go_  
_Movin' fast and movin' slow_  
_I'm in a crowd yet I'm all alone_  
_The road is long the road is rough_  
_I do believe I've had enough_  
_I'm gonna turn around and head for home._

_And I hope you're there_  
_And you still care_  
_And if you do,_  
_I'll spend my life with you._

_I've had all the time I need_  
_To rearrange my mind and lead_  
_The life I thought I wanted yesterday_  
_I played a game that couldn't last_  
_And now some memories from the past_  
_Have turned my thoughts around a different way._

_And girl, I find_  
_You're still on my mind._  
_And if you want me to_  
_I'll spend my life with you._

_And girl, I find_  
_You're still on my mind._  
_And if you want me to_  
_I'll spend my life with you._

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	66. Chapter 66

Thanks for reading this first volume of what started out as a trilogy of stories about the Monkees and this group of girlfriends/life partners and friends, but is now morphing into an open-ended series. The next Volume is called [_Our Hearts' Desire_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270155/chapters/63951478). The series is called [_The Monkees Family_](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889890). I am working on Volume Four at the moment, so I hope you will stick around and read Volumes 2 and 3. They are both similar in that they follow the Monkees and this cast of original characters I've created as they experience historical events of the sixties going forward through time. Volume 2 sees the boys hit the big time and become professional musicians, and then continues their story as the musical group dissolves and their lives diverge. Throughout it all the Monkees family sticks together. 

Thanks for reading!


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